


The Prince's Speech

by ladysockalot



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-07
Updated: 2011-09-07
Packaged: 2017-10-23 12:31:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladysockalot/pseuds/ladysockalot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is the Crown Prince of Camelot, he has just one problem, his speech. When his father takes ill he finds he must either find his voice or risk losing the throne. Can unconventional speech therapist Merlin Emerson help the Prince speak? And what happens when the Prince falls in love with the man who has helped him find his voice?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prince's Speech

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: character death. For details see end. Thanks to dk_323 and magog_83 for beta, support and encouragement. Thanks to chaosmaka for cheerleading.

As he stared at the words on the paper, Arthur went through them again in his head. It wasn't hard to read them mentally, each word came out perfectly timed and perfectly enunciated. In his mind there were no pauses, no awkward moments where the words wouldn't come, they simply flowed. The reality was Arthur knew he could never speak them like that.

The speech was an important one; the closing speech of the Great Albion Exhibition. Thousands had poured into the city to view the displays of the artistic, scientific and engineering achievements of Albion’s last hundred years. Arthur's own father; King Uther himself, had delivered a rousing opening speech. He should have been delivering this one but had taken ill with a mild bout of laryngitis and Arthur, as his son and heir, was the natural choice to speak in his place.

Except Arthur couldn't speak.

Arthur was jolted out of his thoughts by Morgana lightly touching his arm.

“Arthur, it's time,” she said, her face creased with worry. She knew how nervous Arthur was. She'd been at his side since they were children. She'd seen her brother struggle to do what should have been a natural talent.

He smiled at her, a tight smile betraying his nerves no doubt from her sympathetic look.

“It will be all right,” she whispered.

Arthur shook his head. It was never all right but at least he wasn't facing his ordeal alone.

Leaving the VIP room he went up the stairs to where the podium was waiting. As he took each step he ran through the words in his mind imagining them clearly and without fault. At the top of the stairs they were met by Geoffrey, the man who had personally approved the speech Arthur was about to attempt to speak.

“You'll be live in two minutes,” he said.

Arthur gritted his teeth and stepped out into the stand. All around him was a vast crowd of people. The stand was fully packed and there were four more just like it. Even on the ground there were large crowds, bigger than Arthur had seen before. Every person was so small it felt like thousands of pinheads were glaring at him.

Stepping up to the podium, Arthur noticed the dreaded microphone hung in front of him. He'd fought battles, seen wars and yet nothing had scared him as much as this new grey, modern piece of equipment. For it meant that the crowds before him were but a small number of the people who would be listening. It was as if he was looking at a bucketful of sand grains when in fact he had an entire beach.

He carefully arranged the papers on the lectern. He shuffled them about a little. Beside him he could see a small bulb that would shortly light up red, the colour of danger. That would be his cue.

Taking a few gulps of air Arthur glanced up and was relieved that no-one seemed to be staring. To one side he could see Geraint counting down. Then he pointed to Arthur and the red light flickered on.

Arthur cleared his throat, or tried to, the odd grumbling sound echoed harshly around the arena.

Now he could feel all those eyes turning toward him and the light blinked briefly; once, twice, three times and then on the fourth it stayed on. The light drew his attention away from the paper so he glanced up at the microphone, only to see expectant faces looking at him having turned around in their seats.

“People of Albion,” Arthur began, his voice taking on a strange ethereal quality as the loudspeakers delivered his words to the vast crowd. “I am honoured,” he paused, feeling his breathing increase as the echo caught him up. “to be here...” another pause, longer now. Arthur could feel his throat begin to clench, feel his muscles tense up, “today,” he said. He paused for the next sentence. “The k...k...”

Now Arthur really couldn't speak. He could hear the word 'king' in his mind but his body would not speak it. His tongue moved awkwardly in his mouth as he struggled to expel air out to form the word.

“The k...k...k...”

Every stutter, every mistake, was being amplified a thousand times. Arthur stared at the pages and prayed for a miracle. Beside him Morgana looked sympathetic. Geoffrey's head was bowed.

Eventually he made it through the speech. It took over twice as long as had been planned. He finally managed to say the word king and thereafter paused frequently, virtually at every word.

“I can't... I can't do this Morgana!” he practically shouted as they were escorted down the stairs.

“We'll find someone,” Morgana said, quietly.

“Who?” Arthur asked.

As Crown Prince Arthur had seen every doctor who had ever come close to having some kind of honour for their work. There had been Edwin, who had forced Arthur to put glass balls in his mouth and read the work of poets. Arthur had spat out the balls and not read poetry for months after that.

Then there had been Valiant who had thought that the way to get him to speak was to toughen him up. Arthur had endured just ten minutes of Valiant's brutal physical style before firing him. After him there had been Ulfric who had thought near drowning would cure the problem. Arthur still feared taking baths alone.

In short, not one had been able to help him and the court physician, Gaius, was at a loss as to the cause.

“I can't be cured,” Arthur said, matter-of-factly. “I'm the Prince who can't... who can't... speak.”

*****************************************************************************

The Lady Morgana though, was not one to give up so easily. She had watched her brother struggle through speeches since he was a boy and Uther would shout at him to try harder. There was now a more pressing need to help Arthur. Technology was coming; radio, film and a prince could no longer confine his failing to small crowds. Now his whole nation was listening.

Arthur needed help.

As the car drove along foggy streets, Morgana hoped the man she was about to see could help her brother. Her maid Gwen had spoken highly of him, had said how he helped her brother with his speech. Morgana had been surprised to learn that Elyan had ever really had a speech problem so assured was Gwen's brother whenever they met. It seemed he owed it all to a certain Merlin Emerson of Harley Street and his unconventional techniques that got clear results.

Morgana had asked for the address at once.

Now here she was on a foggy, bleak, and damp morning hoping to find a man who could save her brother from over two decades of speech problems. It was quite a long shot by any means, but Morgana had a good feeling about Mr Emerson, one she'd not had in a long time.

The car pulled up outside and Morgana instructed her driver to wait. Percival was always polite and efficient.

“Very good, ma'am,” he said, as he helped her out.

Emerson's rooms were situated on the uppermost floor of the building and Morgana had to go in a lift to get to them. She was relieved that she'd persuaded Uther to install the modern devices in the palace as they were quite intimidating things. As she reached the right floor the bell dinged and she shifted the screen to step out.

The place was shabby, no doubt about that, and old. The decoration was at least a generation out of date. She stepped up to the door of the room in front and knocked.

When she got no reply she ventured a call. “Hello? Is anyone there?”

There was a voice from behind her. “Just in the toilet, won't be a minute!”

Morgana smiled.

She wasn't kept waiting long, she barely had time to note the dust on the light fitting, before a man about Arthur's age stepped out of a small room and into the hall area. He was dressed a little shabbily compared to the doctors Morgana had met but then it was clear he wasn't a doctor. The sign on his door said 'Mr M. Emerson. Speech Therapist'.

“Oh, sorry, I thought you were Freya,” the man said, offering a hand. “She's due her appointment soon and I thought she was early.”

Morgana warily took the stranger’s hand and shook it. “Are you Mr Emerson?”

He nodded. “Merlin Emerson, yes. Can I help you?”

She smiled. “You can. I have a brother...”

“So you're not here for yourself?”

“No. My brother is... shy about his 'problem.'”

“He can't be shy if he wants to be my patient,” Merlin grinned. “I don’t take referrals from family members.”

“Please,” Morgana said. “It's delicate.”

Merlin frowned a little. “Go on.”

“My brother, as part of his job, is required to speak publicly and, well, he has difficulty.”

“Perhaps he should find a new job.”

“He can't. My brother is the Crown Prince of Albion. Maybe you’ve heard of him? Prince Arthur?”

Merlin's eyes widened and he looked slightly shocked. “So you would be...”

“The Lady Morgana, yes.”

Merlin wandered into his rooms. “I think I need a sit down,” he muttered.

Morgana barely gave the man a chance to collapse in his chair before she spoke again. “Will you help him?”

Now sitting down Merlin seemed a little calmer. “You want me to treat the Crown Prince of Albion?”

“Yes. He's seen everybody but none of them helped.”

Now a smile began to form on Merlin's face “He hasn't seen me.”

“Gwen told me you did wonders with her brother; Elyan.”

“Elyan's problem was minor, he just needed some confidence.”

“Which is what Arthur needs.”

Merlin pursed his lips. “I'll help,” he said, after a moment's pause. “But it has to be his choice. Your brother has to decide to come here and I'll need total trust.”

“I'll bring him here tomorrow,” Morgana promised. “Have you got a free appointment?”

“You royals are all the same,” Merlin smiled. “Always assuming there's an appointment for you.” He stood up. “Luckily I have a space free at half past two.”

“We'll be here,” Morgana promised.

“Merlin?” a young girl appeared from around the door. “Am I disturb...disturb... interrupting?”

Merlin went over and took the young girl by the hand “Not at all, Freya,” he said, smiling at her and guiding her to a chair. “This lady was just asking if I would help her brother.”

Morgana offered the girl a smile.

“Merlin's very good,” Freya said. “Very good.”

“Quite the endorsement,” Morgana said. “I won't keep you from your patient Mr Emerson. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Until tomorrow,” Merlin replied.

As she went back down in the lift Morgana felt a lot happier. Perhaps she had finally found the right person to cure Arthur.

****************************************************************************

“I am not... going to see a bloody... speech therapist!” Arthur yelled after Morgana had told him what she's been up to that afternoon.

“Arthur, please, he's good. You'll like him.”

“I didn't think I was supposed to like sp...sp... those people.”

“Maybe that's the problem. You need a different approach.”

“I can't go through it again, Morgana.”

“One meeting, that's it, Arthur. If you're not happy you don't have to stay but what if he's the one who can cure you?”

“I can't be... cured.”

“How do you know if you don't try and see him?”

Arthur was looking out of the window. Morgana pressed it further.

“If this doesn't work out I won't ask you again.”

Reluctantly Arthur nodded. “One meeting,” he conceded.

“You won't regret it,” Morgana said.

Deep down both of them prayed he wouldn't.

****************************************************************************

At two o'clock the next day Merlin waved goodbye to Matthew. The man was coming on in leaps and bounds. Merlin was sure he would be able to get through his wedding vows without any trouble at all.

Glancing at the clock Merlin was relieved he hadn't got another appointment for another half hour, considering who the next appointment was with. He hadn't quite believed it had been the Lady Morgana standing outside his door until he had gone home and stolen a look at Gwaine's newspaper. Sure enough there had been a picture of her on page ten with her brother; Merlin's new patient.

He spent ten minutes trying to rearrange the furniture. There were only a few of chairs, a sofa and a couple of tables, but he was determined each one should be perfect. Ironic really as in these rooms Arthur would simply be just another patient and not the heir to one of the most important thrones in the world. The Crown Prince was going to have something of a culture shock.

The clock read twenty past and Merlin made himself a cup of tea, timing how long the kettle took to boil. He was just sipping at the warm brew when he heard the familiar clack of the lift shutter being opened. Taking a quick gulp of tea he noticed it was twenty five past the hour. Apparently the stories about Royalty always being punctual were true.

Outside the room he could hear strained voices, obviously trying to whisper but failing miserably. Smiling to himself, he opened the door with a flourish. “Hello!” he said.

The talking stopped and the prince stared at him whilst the Lady Morgana seemed amused.

“Come in,” Merlin said, waving a hand to encourage them inside.

“This isn't what I... expected,” Arthur said, quietly.

“What were you expecting?” Merlin asked. “I was wondering about growing a beard.”

“Your rooms,” Arthur said.

Merlin looked around, wondering how they would appear to a prince. “Oh, I've not got around to redecorating yet, but I will. I just need a few more paying patients.”

“Couldn't we do... this... at the palace?” Arthur asked.

Merlin shook his head. “I require trust and equality. If we were in Camelot Palace we wouldn’t have that. We'd have you being the Prince and that wouldn’t work.”

“I'm still the Prince.”

“No, you're my patient,” Merlin corrected. “In here that's who you are.”

He could see Arthur backing away a little, glancing at the door. For someone who looked so confident it was clear he didn't appear to have much inside. Merlin noticed Morgana touching his arm.

“Give him a chance, Arthur,” she whispered. “You said you would.”

“Do we have to be alone?” Arthur asked.

“For the first meeting, yes,” Merlin said. “I need to find out about you and the best way is for us to talk together.”

“I'll be outside,” Morgana whispered, giving her brother’s arm a squeeze. She smiled at Merlin before leaving the room, closing the door behind her.

“So... where do we start?” Arthur asked, standing awkwardly.

“On the sofa,” Merlin replied, indicating the battered blue sofa set against one wall. Arthur shuffled over.

The Prince took a good hard look at the sofa before he gingerly sat down. Merlin pulled up a chair and sat down opposite. He offered his new patient what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

“I'm Merlin,” he said, holding out a hand.

“Pleased to meet you... Mr Emerson.”

“No, it's Merlin,” he corrected. “All my patients call me Merlin.”

“You... can call me 'Your Royal Highness' and after that, 'Sir',” Arthur replied, shaking Merlin's hand rather half heartedly.

“I told you in here all men are equal,” Merlin said. “You're my patient not the Prince.”

“Mr P...P...Pendragon then.”

Merlin could sense the stiff formality that had been forced into Arthur, clearly from a young age, reflected in the way he was sat bolt upright on the sofa, his muscles tense. No wonder the man had problems. “Arthur.”

“Only my family... c...call me that.”

“Well, think of me as a long lost relative,” Merlin said. “Shall we start, Arthur?”

Arthur winced at the use of his name but didn't object. “What makes you think you... can cure me? I've seen the best doctors in Albion.”

“Firstly, I'm from Avalon not Albion.”

“That explains the... lack of etiquette. You... colonials are all the same.”

“Secondly they were doctors. I'm a speech therapist.”

“Several of them are well known for their... speech work.”

“They're amateurs. Idiots who think that a degree means you know everything.”

“My f...f...father has given several of them honours.”

“So they're officially honoured idiots.”

“You have no shame.”

“I hope not,” Merlin grinned. Arthur's posture relaxed a little. “So what was your earliest memory?”

“I'm not here to discuss... memories.”

“Then why you you here?” Merlin asked, leaning forward a little.

“Because I stammer! I bloody stammer!” Arthur yelled, causing Merlin to lean back. The Prince had quite the temper.

“But you didn't then,” Merlin said.

“What the hell does it matter?”

“See you're not stammering now. When you're angry you're not thinking about it.”

“Are you saying my problem is... because I think too much?”

“No! Well, yes.” Merlin sighed. “Your problem is partly in the mind. The physiological changes are because of what's going on in your head. I can help you control your reactions; breathing, diaphragm, all of that but if you want a lasting cure...”

“You want to.... be my... psychologist?”

“Not at all. But if we give you confidence the rest should follow.”

“Should,” Arthur snorted.

“Let's start with something different. Tell me a joke.”

“I don’t know any... jokes.”

“Not even 'Knock Knock' jokes?”

“Timing... isn't a strength of mine,” Arthur replied.

Merlin smiled. “Well, we'll have to work on your jokes,” he said. “Now, I want you to read something to me.”

He went over to the table and picked up one of the books he'd left there. He often flicked through them whilst waiting for patients but he also found them useful tools. He opened the book to the page he wanted and handed it to Arthur.

“Read me this.”

Arthur looked startled. “Poetry? You want me to... read you poetry?”

“I have Shakespeare if you prefer?”

Arthur shook his head. He took a few deep breaths as Merlin watched. “If you c...c..can k...k..eep your head... when all about... you. Are losing theirs... and blaming it... on you.” Arthur threw the book down. “I... c...can't.”

Merlin picked the book up and turned back to the right page. “You can,” he said. He could see Arthur sitting stiffly on the chair, looking ready to stand up and leave. Yet his hands were clasped tightly together. No wonder his problem was so acute. His anxiety was exacerbating the problem to a huge degree.

“I can't,” Arthur replied.

“Come over here,” Merlin said, walking over to his equipment. “I want to show you something.”

It took a moment before Arthur got up off the sofa and came over to where Merlin was fiddling with the knobs. The machine he had was very new and, if truth be told, had cost more money than he could really afford. Still, it had been one of the best investments he had ever made. The technique hadn't failed yet.

“I'm going to record you speaking,” Merlin said.

“I think you’ll find the Albion... Broadcasting Corporation have already... done that.”

“Not like this,” Merlin said, picking up the headphones and placing them over Arthur's ears. They were bulky things but they seemed to fit all right. “I'm going to play you some music and I want you to read the poem again.”

Arthur looked down at the book in his hand.

“Just concentrate on the sound of the music,” Merlin said. “I'm going to record you and then we can play it back and listen together.”

He pointed to the poem on the page. He flicked a switch to get the music playing and turned the volume up to make sure that Arthur wouldn’t be able to hear anything but the music. Flicking another switch to begin the recording he encouraged Arthur to start reading by waving his hand.

Arthur began to read out loud.

A few minutes later Merlin flicked the switch again and stopped the recording. He turned the music off and beamed at Arthur. Arthur though, did not seem so pleased. He removed the headphones slowly and handed them to Merlin looking utterly defeated.

“Shall we play it back?” Merlin asked.

“No. I'm sorry. This... this isn't going to work.” Arthur said.

Merlin frowned. “You've not even heard yourself.”

“I know what I sound like!” Arthur yelled, his stammer disappearing again. “I sound like a bloody fool.”

Merlin lifted the record up off the machine. “Take this with you,” he said. “Listen to it. Think of it as a souvenir.” He placed it in a clean sleeve and offered it to Arthur.

Merlin was not going to force the issue. The last thing he wanted was a patient who didn't want to be there. He only hoped that Arthur would have a change of heart. He knew he could really make a difference with him. He could really help him.

Carefully Arthur took the proffered record. “Thank you for your... time,” he said.

With that Arthur Pendragon left Merlin's rooms without ever realising he had spoken the poem with barely a single stutter or pause in speech. Merlin just hoped Arthur would listen to the record to discover that fact for himself. If he did perhaps, he might come back. Merlin found he wanted that very much.

******************************************************************************

Arthur had left Merlin's rooms with barely concealed disappointment. Morgana had looked equally disappointed. In the car on the way back Arthur said nothing but cradled the record in his hands. Here he had proof of his failings recorded in black vinyl. When they reached the palace Arthur placed the record on the table in his private rooms and forgot about it.

That evening he had to endure another dinner with his father. Although his health was failing, King Uther still insisted that the regimen of the royal household was maintained. That meant full dinner suits and at least three courses. It also meant interminable silences and awkward conversation.

“We never talked about your speech, Arthur,” Uther said, as he lifted a spoon full of soup to his mouth.

“No... we didn't... F...F...Father.”

“You really need to work on that hesitancy of yours.”

“Yes... Father.” Arthur pushed his spoon in the soup and stirred slightly.

Uther took another spoonful. “It's really quite simple. You just need to try harder.”

“I will... F..Father.”

Morgana, who had been eating her soup, quietly stepped into the conversation. “I think Arthur did an excellent job. He didn't have much time to prepare.”

“A king always needs to be prepared, Morgana,” Uther replied, lifting another spoonful of soup to his lips and slurping it slowly. “He must always be ready when his public duties call him. Arthur knows that. Don't you, Arthur?”

“Yes... Father.”

“Don't pause so much. You don't need to think about every word.”

“Sorry.” As always Arthur kept his answers short, lest his father pick up on his speech impediment.

“Don't apologise either. It's a sign of weakness.”

“Yes... F...F...Father.”

“And eat your soup It's getting cold.”

Arthur didn't answer and simply took a spoonful. The soup had already lost much of its heat and the tepid liquid ran down his throat without much pleasure.

There was a great deal of relief in Arthur's heart when dinner was over. He bid his father a stiff  
goodnight and went up to his rooms. Morgana caught him on the stairs.

“Don't let him get to you,” she said.

Arthur gave her a smile. “If only it was that easy.”

As he entered his rooms he pulled his tie and threw it onto the bed. Sighing he sat down and rubbed his eyes before loosening his collar. He looked about his room; the trappings of monarchy all around him in the opulent furniture and Royal headed stationary. Finally his eyes alighted on the record he'd casually thrown onto his desk after his visit with Merlin.

He looked at it and then at the gramophone in the corner of his room. It was barely used as so little of the music dedicated to the new record format was really to Arthur's taste. Still, he thought, perhaps he could get some use of it. Getting up he went over and picked the record up from the desk.

Taking it out of the sleeve he examined the perfect shiny surface. There were no imperfections, no faults with it, unlike the recording. Perhaps listening to it would give him some idea of when he was pausing, perhaps it would give him better understanding of how he sounded. It would probably be absolute torture but after his father's words it couldn’t be much worse. Carefully, Arthur placed the record onto the gramophone, made sure it was on, and lowered the needle.

What he heard had him nearly falling over in shock. For a moment he wondered if Merlin hadn't given him the wrong record, hadn't recorded Arthur at all, but it sounded like him except... except the reading was near-flawless compared to what he had been expecting. There was the odd stutter, pause and mispronunciation, but if Arthur hadn’t been looking for fault he wasn't sure he would have noticed it.

Arthur sat down in his desk chair. As the noise of the record turned to static he decided first thing in the morning he was going to ask Morgana for Merlin's telephone number. If that failed he'd go down to Merlin's rooms in person.

****************************************************************************

It had been just a normal day for Merlin. Another day of seeing far too many patients for free and not enough paying ones to subsidise the free treatments. He was glad he only had to pay a third of the rent of his lodgings. At the present time he could barely cover the rent of his consulting rooms and they had been the cheapest in the area he could find. He needed to be in the area if he was to attract the rich clients whose fees would help him provide the services to the poorer folk that were so desperately needed.

There was one rich client Merlin hadn't stopped thinking about: Arthur. Arthur the attractive Crown Prince with no self belief and a voice that, if properly trained, could inspire a nation. At least that was what the poetry-loving side of Merlin liked to think. He had no doubt Arthur had issues but he also had potential.

Still, he had made his choice. Merlin had offered his help but the rest was up to Arthur. What Merlin hadn't expected was that the knocking on his door at five o'clock when he was ready to head for home would reveal that very man.

“Prince Arthur?” Merlin asked, surprised, as Arthur stood there.

“Yes. I'm sorry but I thought... I'd w...wait... until you wouldn't have any other... p...patients.”

Arthur was nervous. He was looking around uncertainly and shuffling his feet around. “I didn't think I'd see you again,” Merlin replied. He had hoped but it had just been that; hope.

“I listened... to the record. You... I...I sounded all right. Can you... could we do that again?”

“Yes. It will take time and effort and I need you to really want to do this.”

“I w...want to.”

Merlin went over to the pile of papers on the desk in the corner. “I hoped you would,” he said, smiling, flicking through the papers. “We can draw up a treatment schedule. You'll need to see me every day for at least a couple of months. You won't see any miraculous improvement straight away.”

“I understand.”

Merlin finally found his diary and turned to the current week. “What time's best for you?”

“I'm the Prince. I... can decide whatever time is best.”

“How about two thirty?”

“Agreed. Starting tomorrow?”

Merlin was already pencilling in the initial AP for two thirty the next day before he thought of something. “Do you want to use a pseudonym?” he asked. “For privacy.”

“I thought you had patient... doctor c...confidentiality.”

“I do, but I can't exactly risk saying your name so someone overhears it.”

“Mr Wartson. Morgana thought of it when I was... little.”

“All right Mr A Wartson.”

“About payment,” Arthur said, quietly. “Would a few hundred be all right? As... an advance?”

Merlin wanted to jump up and down and hug Arthur for all he was worth. A few hundred would cover the rent for far more than two months. It would cover his rooms and lodging costs for more than two months. However, he kept his composure and just stood up a little straighter. “More than all right,” he said.

Arthur wrote the cheque out on the spot. “Thank you,” he said, as he handed it over.

Merlin shook his head. “I haven't helped you yet.”

Arthur smiled. “You already... have. Just by helping me get here.”

“You did that,” Merlin said, as he took the cheque from Arthur.

There was an awkward silence as if neither of them was sure what to say among their compliments. Finally Merlin noticed Arthur shifting awkwardly before he held out his hand.

“Until tomorrow then.”

“Yes,” Merlin replied, shaking Arthur's hand. “I'll see you at two thirty.”

With a nod Arthur exited Merlin's rooms, leaving Merlin to collapse onto the nearest chair. He looked at the cheque and could hardly believe the amount on it. He noticed too it was signed by a Mr Wartson, well the Crown Pince of Albion was hardly likely sign cheques as himself. Carefully putting it in his wallet Merlin got up and went over to his desk.

He went through his papers to find the notes he had written on his first impression of Arthur. His professional notes of course, his personal notes, had he written them down, would have been all together different. Arthur was attractive, handsome and generous. He was also royalty and completely off limits. Merlin was determined to help his patient and that was all Prince Arthur would ever be; his patient.

******************************************************************************

Arthur took out his watch and checked it for the fifth time in as many minutes. He'd arrived far too early for his appointment, he knew that, but he was eager to start. He was also eager to see Merlin again if he was being honest. Something about the man intrigued him. Clearly Merlin was unconventional and had no idea about the proper way of things but that piqued Arthur's interest.

He swiped his thumb over the face of his watch and determined that twenty five past the hour was close enough. By the time he’d exited the car and gone up to Merlin's rooms it would be half past. Royalty was always punctual, and Arthur was no exception, but to arrive too early would be impolite, especially when Merlin had a schedule to see his patients.

Exiting the car Arthur wondered for a moment if he shouldn't have let Morgana come with him. She had offered to accompany him for moral support but if Arthur was going to do this he had to make the first steps himself. That wasn't to say his heart wasn't pounding as he took the lift up to Merlin's rooms. He tried to keep his breathing calm and even but he wasn't entirely successful.

Arthur checked his watch a final time as he stepped out of the lift and into the dim hallway. It showed just a minute to go and Arthur could relax a little. He walked up to the door of Merlin’s rooms ready for his appointment. He gave a swift knock on the wooden door and waited.

When the door didn't open immediately, Arthur wondered about checking his watch again, or perhaps knocking again. This was a new situation for him. The only doors he'd previously knocked on were those of his teachers, lecturers, commanding officers or, worst of all, the door to his father's study.

To his immense relief the door opened and a grinning Merlin gestured to him.

“Come in, Mr Wartson,” he said, loudly.

“Merlin, I doubt there's... anyone to over...hear.”

“You never know,” Merlin replied, then he paused. “Come in then, Arthur.”

Arthur stepped inside. He wasn't entirely sure what to expect. He looked around, waiting for instruction.

“You can take your coat off if you'd like,” Merlin said, gesturing to a hat stand.”Unless you're not staying?”

“How long... w...will this... take?” Arthur asked, standing awkwardly as if at attention.

“In a hurry to leave already?”

“No but... I asked the car to wait for me.”

“You're the Prince. I'm sure the car will wait as long as you want.”

Realising he was delaying the inevitable Arthur carefully took his coat off. He placed it on the rather wobbly hat stand and hoped it wouldn't fall off.

“Right,” Merlin said, rubbing his hands. “We can get started then.”

Merlin wandered into the centre of the room. “Stand over here.”

Walking a little stiffly Arthur came to stand in front of Merlin. Merlin promptly put his hands on Arthur’s shoulder before he had a chance to protest and encouraged him to turn to the right a little.

“We just need to make sure you're in the right position,” he said. “There we are.”

Releasing his hold on Arthur, Merlin stepped back.

“Is standing up going to... solve my stammer?” Arthur asked. Merlin was unconventional so it wouldn’t surprise him.

“Oh no. I need to check your diaphragm,” Merlin said, before coming round to stand at Arthur’s back.

Arthur nearly jumped at the feel of Merlin's hand on his stomach. “What are you... doing?”

“I want to see how your breathing is,” Merlin explained, putting a hand on Arthur's shoulder.

“Touching your... Prince... could be considered... treason.”

“So lock me in the tower. That won't solve your problem. Trust me, Arthur.”

Despite Merlin's words Arthur couldn't help but tense up a little. Arthur was so rarely touched by another person, apart from his sister. Royalty weren't just casually touched, there was protocol, etiquette and expectation forbidding it. Still, Merlin's hand didn't feel wrong. In fact Arthur could feel a warm feeling in his stomach, close to where Merlin's hands rested.

Willing himself to relax a little, lest he alter the results of whatever the examination would tell Merlin, Arthur nodded and let Merlin continue.

“Just breathe in,” Merlin said. “Deep breaths, slow and steady as you can.”

At first Arthur's breaths weren't slow and steady, clearly thinking about relaxing wasn't helping.

“Easy, Arthur,” Merlin whispered.

Merlin’s voice was soothing and Arthur tried to relax again. He focused on the wall opposite, on a patch of peeling paint that had created an odd pattern. It looked a little like a whale. Staring at it he could feel his breathing evening out. He took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. He could feel Merlin pushing down on him a little as he continued to breathe in and out.

Arthur relaxed into the rhythm so much he was surprised when Merlin gently removed his hand. “All right, you can stop now, Arthur.”

Letting out a last breath Arthur stood ready for the verdict. Except it seemed Merlin had other ideas.

“I want to check your larynx,” Merlin said as he placed his hand low down on Arthur's throat. It was cold and Arthur shivered slightly. “Sorry,” Merlin said. “I want you to say 'Ahhhhhhh' hold it as long as you can.”

Feeling a little foolish, and blushing as a result, Arthur duly did as he was told. One thing he was good at. “Ahhhhhhhh.”

“That's it. Keep going.”

Arthur wasn't sure how much longer he could keep going as he was running out of breath. There was a palpable sense of relief when Merlin asked him to stop and Arthur took a gulp of air.

“Right, now I want you to take a deep breath and then let out an 'ahhhhh',” Merlin said, placing one hand on Arthur's stomach and the other on this throat. “As long as you can.”

“This is...”

“Going to help,” Merlin repeated. “You're doing really well, Arthur.”

He wasn't feeling as if he was, but Merlin was the expert, and if he was happy with what Arthur was doing then that was what counted in his opinion. Focusing on the patch of peeling paint on the wall, imagining the whale shape swimming, Arthur took a deep breath and let out his 'ahhhh' trying not to think about how nice Merlin's hands felt.

He ran out of breath eventually and sagged. Merlin removed his hands and smiled reassuringly.

“What's the... verdict?” he asked as he saw Merlin step back.

“You have poor co-ordination between your larynx and diaphragm,” Merlin said, as he turned away from Arthur and headed to his small desk. “We can do exercises to help you with that.”

“We?”

“Well,” Merlin grinned as he picked up a notebook. “You'll be doing the hard bit.” Merlin picked up a pencil and chewed the end briefly before he started scribbling something down.

Feeling a little neglected Arthur looked around the room to occupy himself. It wasn't exactly like his usual surroundings. His polished shoes stood out against the rough floorboards. They creaked as he shifted around and waited. His eye kept being drawn to Merlin though. Merlin, who looked so unassuming, but had apparently diagnosed Arthur's problem where doctor after doctor had failed.

Arthur didn't realise he was staring until Merlin was walking toward him.

“Right, now we'll start with a few simple breathing exercises, just to get you going. We'll do some of them during your sessions here, but then you need to do at least another half hour at home. I'll show you what to do but the key is to practice. The more you practice the easier it will get.”

“C....can't I just do them... here?” Arthur asked. He could hardly imagine what would happen if a servant walked in on him practising.

Merlin pursed his lips. “How about for the first few weeks you do most of them here, at least until we've run through a few more, and then gradually start doing some at home?” he asked. “It is important to practice in a different environment. All my patients have to.”

“I'm sure not all your... patients have people c...come into their room.”

“You're the Prince, lock your door.”

“I'm afraid that... doesn't help with my sister.”

“So get her to help you,” Merlin said. “No excuses, Arthur, I'll know if you’ve been slacking off.” As if to emphasise the point Merlin wagged his finger at Arthur.

“Yes, sir!” Arthur said, immediately regretting his response when he saw Merlin's serious face.

As a child and young man Arthur had lived in fear of his tutors and their anger at his failures, but their fiercesome expressions hadn't affected him the same way as Merlin's disappointed expression.

“Sorry,” Arthur said, quietly.

“This is for you, Arthur,” Merlin said. “You're the one who has to want to work on this. I can do miracles but not the impossible.”

Arthur smiled. “Only miracles?”

Merlin smiled back. “Hey, I have a reputation to keep.”

“I’ll do my best,” Arthur said. “I w...w...wouldn't want to.. .tarnish your reputation.”

“Good, now do you want to start?”

Arthur nodded. “Yes.”

“We'll start with a few breathing exercises,” Merlin said, going over to the window and opening it. “Loosen you up.”

“I don't need to be... loose.”

Merlin seemed to ignore Arthur as he came over and pushed him toward the window. “Fresh air, it's good for you.”

Arthur stood in front of the window and smelt the air. They were in a city and as a result the air wasn't exactly fresh. There was the acrid smell of industry in the air, mixed with some odd cooking smells. It wasn't very pleasant. “You... call this fresh?”

“We're not driving out to the countryside just because the air smells a bit...” Merlin paused, “urban.”

Really, the man was rather odd Arthur thought as he stood in front of the window. “Now what?”

Merlin placed his hands on Arthur's shoulders. “Deep breath and say 'ahhhhh'”

“We've done this... before,”Arthur pointed out.

“But now we're going to keep doing it,” Merlin replied, coming to stand next to Arthur. “Watch.”

There wasn't much to watch but Arthur turned his head to look at Merlin in profile. He'd never really looked at Merlin in such detail before; the line of his jaw, the sight jut of his cheekbones, his full lips. Feeling a little like a voyeur Arthur turned back to look out of the window. Not that the view of the wall of the building next door really compared to Merlin.

“Ahhhhhhh,” Merlin said, breathing in again. “Ahhhhhhhhh.” He sounded slightly higher.

“Are you trying to... sing?”

Merlin stopped 'ahhing' and turned to Arthur, glaring a little. “It's to strengthen the diaphragm,” he said. “You need to start breathing deeply. Breathe up from it.”

“How?” Arthur had no idea how one was supposed 'breathe up'.

Merlin could have made some sarcastic comments but he didn't. He came over and pressed his hand against what Arthur presumed was his diaphragm. “You need to feel it here,” he said. “Breathe out, like you're blowing at something. Take the force from here. Push the sound out from here too.”

“All right,” Arthur said. He took a breath and tried saying 'ahhhh', but before he'd really made a noise Merlin stopped him.

“Feel where my hand is pushing in. When you breathe push out against it.”

Arthur could feel the pressure of Merlin’s hand, it was firm yet it didn't hurt. This time Arthur did as he was told and sure enough he produced a long, deep sounding 'Ahhhhh'.

“Brilliant,” Merlin said. “Now we need to make it higher.”

For the rest of the session Arthur stood in front of an open window and made 'ahhhhhh' noises. At Merlin's direction he held them for a long or short period of time. He was encouraged to alter the pitch, sometimes whilst making the sound. It could have been psychosomatic, but by the end he felt as if he was breathing much more easily. He was disappointed when Merlin called the session to an end.

“I think that's enough for today,” Merlin said. “We'll start on some different exercises tomorrow.”

Arthur wandered over to fetch his coat. Luckily, it had not fallen off the hat stand. However, when Arthur lifted his coat off the stand, the structure did wobble to the point where he feared the hat stand would fall over.

“Now, think about your breathing before you go to sleep,” Merlin said, helping Arthur into his coat even though Arthur hadn't made the request. “Relax and focus.”

“I will. Thank you,” Arthur said. “I'm grateful.”

“You did all the hard work, remember?” Merlin said, patting Arthur on the back.

It was a friendly, familiar gesture that really shouldn't have been allowed but, when it came to Merlin, Arthur found convention was rapidly having no place in their interactions. “Of course I did.”

“I'll you tomorrow,” Merlin said, as he opened the door. “Mr Wartson.” The last part was said quite loudly.

Arthur gave Merlin a last look as he left. Merlin was ridiculous. He was also kind, patient and rather good looking in Arthur's opinion. He shook his head as he got into the lift. Merlin was his therapist. They had had one therapy session, he shouldn't be thinking thoughts like that.

Yet as he was driven back to the palace the only thing he was thinking about was that it would be nearly twenty four hours before he could see Merlin again.

******************************************************************************

As he shut the door after Arthur had left Merlin breathed a sigh of relief. Their first therapy session was complete and it had, in his opinion, gone rather well. Arthur had eventually relaxed, which had been Merlin's main worry. Part of Arthur’s problem was his tensing up. If Merlin couldn’t get him to relax then there was no hope of managing Arthur's condition.

As it was he had high hopes for the Prince. Arthur had a determination about him, facing his fears the way he had. Clearly it had taken a lot of courage to get this far and Merlin admired that. Arthur was the best sort of patient; one who truly wanted to be there. He just needed the odd push in the right direction.

Things had gone so well that Merlin had been surprised when he'd looked at the clock and noticed the time. Never had a session passed by so quickly. Of course it had all been very basic stuff. Next time they'd do some other exercises, vary it.

He wrote up his notes and observations and placed them in Arthur's file. Everything was labelled Mr Wartson in case anyone bothered to look. Merlin trusted all his patients but some of the younger ones did have a tendency to poke their noses into where they didn’t belong.

Speaking of which, he'd just put Arthur's file away when Gilli appeared for his session. Turning his attention from the patient he'd just treated Merlin gave Gilli his full attention as they worked on the poor boy’s tendency to get tongue tied.

After Gilli Merlin saw a couple of other patients before it was time to head home. Luckily he had a car. Albeit an old, battered Austin Seven at least a decade old. It had been the cheapest car Merlin could buy when he'd arrived from Avalon but he liked spending the journey home alone with his private thoughts. As he drove home through the darkened streets he couldn't help but think about Arthur. A dangerous thought he knew.

Arriving home he saw Lancelot's car already parked. There wasn't much parking available given the modest house he shared with Lancelot and Gwaine had been built long before the invention of the motorcar. Merlin managed to squeeze his car into a space not far from his front door and headed inside, there was a slight nip in the air so he didn't linger.

As he entered the kitchen he saw Lancelot taking out some sort of dish from the oven.

“Gwen sent some food over?” Merlin asked. Apparently Lancelot's long standing girlfriend had the opinion that three men living in a house together couldn't cook. She may have had a point.

“Yes, just a shepherd's pie,” Lancelot replied, closing the oven door.

“At least it means we'll be eating something edible,” Gwaine said, leaning back in his chair with his feet on the table as he read the paper.

Merlin pushed Gwaine's feet off. “You could take your shoes off,” he said.

“But they keep my feet warm.”

Lancelot smiled sympathetically at Merlin. “How did things go today?” he asked as he laid out three plates and three sets of cutlery.

“Great,” Merlin replied, sitting down. “Saw a new patient today.”

“Ah, the mysterious rich benefactor,” Gwaine said, putting his paper to one side, clearly in anticipation of food.

“Yes. I think he's got potential.”

“In helping to pay the bills?” Gwaine asked.

Lancelot placed the shepherd's pie in its dish on the table. “I'm sure his money helps.”

“It does but honestly he could be brilliant. I mean really brilliant. He's kind, determined and with a bit of work he'll get the confidence he needs.”

Gwaine smiled. “Sounds like someone's smitten.”

“Is he... you know?” Lancelot asked, as he divided the shepherd’s pie between the three plates.

“Yes, he's good looking but nothing is going to happen. He's my patient.”

“Who is he?” Gwaine asked, taking a forkful of food. “Must be something to have you interested.”

“I can't say,” Merlin replied. “Doctor-patient confidentiality.”

“Just let us know before you bring him home,” Gwaine winked.

“I won't be bringing him home,” Merlin replied. He could hardly picture Arthur, Crown Prince of Albion, in their humble kitchen, much as he wanted to. “So how's the world of finance?”

“Not looking so great if the rumours are true.”

“What rumours?” Merlin asked.

Lancelot smiled. “Merlin, my friend you need to keep up with the papers. They say Mercia's been making noise about invading the Western Isles.”

“But that would mean war.”

Gwaine shoved his newspaper in Merlin's direction. “You won't get much out of there but the news is all over the treasury.”

Glancing at the headlines Merlin could see something about a possible diplomatic incident. He believed Gwaine and Lancelot more than the paper. Both of them had worked in the treasury for long enough to know details about government business the ordinary public had no idea about. They'd told Merlin about the scandal with the Tiramor affair long before it had hit the newspapers.

It wasn't entirely unexpected that his first thought was what it would mean for Arthur. Especially when his eye caught the paragraph deploring rumours about the king's health. The cynic in Merlin knew that Albion's newspapers liked to keep the full details of the Royals behind closed doors. Which was why Arthur's stammer had so far evaded too much scrutiny, for which Merlin found himself unexpectedly grateful.

With luck Arthur's problem would be managed before too much attention could be drawn to it.

*****************************************************************************

The next afternoon Merlin had decided that he wouldn't ask, or talk about, the possibility of war. That wasn't the sort of thing that would help Arthur. He was supposed to helping instil confidence in his patient. So Merlin was entirely professional. That was until he asked Arthur to lie down on the floor and roll around.

“You want me to w...what?” Arthur asked, looking completely shocked.

“It'll help strengthen your diaphragm.”

“I'm the Prince. I don't... roll around on the floor,” Arthur said, looking at the shabby carpet.

Sensing Arthur's reluctance, Merlin himself went down onto the floor. “It's fine, Arthur,” Merlin said, lying down. The floor was hard but not that uncomfortable. “If you stretch out like this,” he demonstrated by stretching his arms out above his head. “And then you just roll. Like this.” Merlin rolled first away from where Arthur was standing above him and then back toward him.

“See?” Merlin asked, as he got up, checking to see he hadn't pulled any muscles.

“And how is... that supposed to... help?” Arthur didn't seem convinced.

“Look,” Merlin said, touching Arthur and pressing down where his diaphragm was. “Stretching helps build the muscles around here.” He jerked his hand away before it lingered there too long.

“And the rolling?”

“All helps,” Merlin said. “I know it's not,” he paused. “dignified but...”

Arthur snorted.

“You'll have to trust me.”

It was quite a sight to see the Crown Prince of Albion get down on the floor. “If my clothes get dirty from your... carpet,” Arthur said, “I'll take the... cleaning fee out of your next payment.”

“Don't you have servants to clean your clothes?” Merlin asked. He watched Arthur stretch out gingerly. It seemed as if he was looking for dirt.

“That's... not the point... Merlin,” Arthur replied, squirming as he lay on the floor.

Merlin carefully bent down and put his hands on Arthur's side. “Good, now keep stretching and roll,” Merlin said, giving Arthur a firm push.

As if by surprise or simply because of Merlin’s encouragement Arthur rolled across the floor, stopping before he reached the edge of the carpet and avoiding bashing into any of the furniture.

“I don't feel better,” Arthur said, now lying still.

Coming to stand by Arthur Merlin leaned down. “We can't just do it once,” he said. “Let's keep trying.” He gave Arthur another push and the prince rolled across the floor again.

It was clear that Arthur felt awkward but it was the first day of treatment and Merlin was sure he would loosen up. Which was why he decided to move the treatment onto the next exercise. He had planned several and decided or see how Arthur reacted to each one before making his treatment plan more formal with set exercises.

“For this next one I want you to clasp your hands together like this,” Merlin said, demonstrating by pressing his palms together and linking his fingers.

Arthur gave his hands a brief look before he silently copied Merlin's actions. Without asking permission Merlin started positioning Arthur's hands relative to his body. He felt a little guilty because he did think perhaps his need to rush Arthur wasn’t born entirely out of professionalism. Still, he hoped it was helping.

“Now what?” Arthur asked, looking very self conscious.

Standing opposite Merlin demonstrated. “Loosen your jaw and do this,” he said. Feeling a little bit self conscious himself Merlin felt his mouth go loose, said 'ah' and kept up the word as he moved his clasped hands toward him and then away. After a moment he stopped.

Arthur watched intently. “You... want... me to do that?”

“Why don't we do it together?” Merlin suggested to ease his patient's discomfort.

“A...very good idea,” Arthur replied.

“On three?” Merlin offered.

He noticed Arthur nodded and took in a deep breath.

“One. Two. Three.”

On cue Arthur and Merlin in unison began to 'ahhh'. If Merlin didn’t know better he'd almost say they were harmonising. After about thirty seconds he stopped and Arthur, following Merlin's lead also stopped, breathing a sigh of relief.

“You're doing great, Arthur,” Merlin said. “Now let's try loosening up that throat a bit more.”

So engrossed did Merlin become in the exercises he was doing with Arthur that he nearly overran the session time limit. It was only a quick glance at the clock as Arthur was 'ahhing' that made him realise the time was up. He felt almost disappointed. He cherished the time with all his patients but Arthur's time, though no more important as a patient, had a personal resonance with Merlin.

“I'll see... you tomorrow,” Arthur said.

Merlin ignored the little thrill he got. He would be professional, he would. “Yes. If you get time to practice what we've done today before you come back, please do.”

“An... order, Merlin?” Arthur asked.

“A suggestion. As your therapist,” Merlin replied holding out his hand. “See you tomorrow.”

Arthur shook Merlin’s hand firmly. The handshake probably went on for longer than what might be deemed appropriate but Merlin was waiting for Arthur to pull away. When he finally slackened his grip Merlin wasn't sure but Arthur looked a little unsure. He offered a smile and Arthur returned it.

He watched Arthur leave his rooms and went to update Arthur's notes. He'd made excellent progress, Merlin was very pleased. He was less pleased with the feelings he was starting to develop. He'd never thought about a patient like this before. The next few weeks were going to test his professionalism to the limit, he could tell.

****************************************************************************

When he got back to the palace, Arthur was in a good mood. For some reason Merlin's company made him feel less of a failure as a prince and more of normal person who happened to have a, hopefully, curable problem. That and the fact he had genuinely enjoyed his session with Merlin, embarrassing as it had been. It was something new, different and Arthur had found himself quite captivated by Merlin, who clearly knew what he was doing.

Yet those pleasant thoughts proved fleeting as Morgana met him as he left the car to go inside.

“Arthur!”

“Morgana w...what's w...wrong?” Arthur asked, as his sister ran toward him, her dress billowing out and her make up running a little.

“It's Uther, he's been taken ill.”

“F...f...ather's ill?”

Morgana clutched Arthur's arm and nodded. “You remember he was quiet at breakfast and didn't eat anything?”

“He didn't... come down... for lunch.” Arthur had thought his father was just working hard as usual and opting to take his lunch in his private rooms.

“When they went to take him up his lunch he was slumped in his chair. He's not well, Arthur, the doctors aren't sure what's wrong. They think it's his heart.”

“B..b..but he's...”

Morgana spoke softly. “Not the man he used to be, Arthur.”

Shaking his head, Arthur struggled to comprehend it. His father had always been the strong one, the leader everyone had looked up to. As a child he had lived in equal fear and awe of his father. He had seen his father ill but mildly with colds, flu, illness that was easily recoverable from. The idea his father had taken with an illness he couldn't conquer was a terrifying thought.

“There's more, Arthur,” Morgana said.

“More?” Arthur could hardly believe it. His father was sick, what more could there be?

“Your Uncle Tristan's coming. I don't know who told him but he knows Uther is ill.”

There was only one person Arthur feared other than his father and that was his Uncle Tristan. Tristan Du Bois was of Royal blood himself tracing back through his maternal line. A seasoned soldier, veteran, and the most feared debater in the council.

“W...w...what c...could he... want?” Arthur asked.

“I don't know,” Morgana said. “But we'll find out. He's to arrive here in a couple of days. He's cut his tour of Tregor short.”

Arthur felt a knot in his stomach. The arrival of his Uncle Tristan filled him with a sense of dread. He had never come out of compassion or love for his family. He had stopped sending Arthur birthday greetings long before he came of age.

Tristan's arrival was not the only issue. Uther had a heavy schedule of public engagements in the next few weeks and months. Whilst some could be put off others would not be so easily delayed. As Crown Prince it would fall upon Arthur to go in his father's place and give speeches.

“Arthur?” Morgana rubbed his arm.

“I...need to see..f...f...father,” Arthur said, striding inside.

*****************************************************************************

When he reached his father's bedside the sight shocked him. His father looked pale, weak, old, his eyes were closed and Arthur couldn't see him breathing. Gaius, his father's most trusted physician, who had served the family personally for decades, was at the king's bedside, checking Uther's pulse.

“Is... he?” Arthur asked.

Gaius turned to face Arthur. “He's just resting,” Gaius said, quietly. “That's what he needs; rest.”

“W...w...will he be... all right?”

Gaius shook his head sadly. “It's his heart, Arthur, it will never fully recover but hopefully with rest he should get over this, for a time anyway.”

That didn’t sound too reassuring to Arthur. “C...can I... sit.. with him?” he asked.

“Of course,” Gaius replied, moving to pack up his things into his bag, his bottles of remedies and his stethoscope. “I'm finished here.”

Arthur pulled up a chair and sat down, looking into the worn face of his father. His throat felt tight at the sight and he found it hard to breathe.

“It's good to see you, Arthur,” Gaius said, before leaving the room.

Arthur could feel hot tears form in his eyes but he wasn't going to cry, not in front of his father, and he blinked them back. He reached out and touched his father's hand. The skin felt cold under his touch.

“I...need you... to... get... b...better,” Arthur said, quietly.

He sat there with his father until Morgana came to escort him to dinner. He ate his food slowly, the gravy congealed on his plate.

“How was your session today?” she asked, when the servants were out of earshot.

Arthur had to smile at the memory, even as he picked at cold potatoes. “Good,” he said. “Merlin... is good.”

“Why do I sense there's a but?” Morgana asked.

“I... don't know... if it... will be... enough,” Arthur said. Not when he was faced with an ill father and more speeches to make than he ever thought he would have to during his time as Prince.

Morgana smiled at him sadly. “It will. You have to trust in yourself that it will be.”

Arthur nodded. Time would tell he supposed. He just wished he had more of it.

*****************************************************************************

The next afternoon Merlin wondered if he would see Arthur. He'd read the newspapers that morning, newspapers that alluded to the king being taken ill.

“Lord Tristan Du Bois's on his way,” Gwaine had said over breakfast. “Not a good sign when that bastard is sneaking around.”

“What's wrong with him?” Merlin had asked, eating his toast.

“They say Lord Tristan has designs on the crown,” Lancelot had replied. “He does have a claim through his mother's side”

“But what about Prince Arthur?” Merlin had asked.

“The Prince no-one seems to see and when they do he can't speak?” Gwaine had asked. “Do you think they'd go for him as king?”

“I would,” Merlin had answered, quietly.

 

So it was that Merlin sat in his room watching the clock and waiting, and hoping, that Arthur would appear. The clock was about to hit half past the hour when he heard a familiar knocking. He tried not to leap up to open the door. Instead he walked over in what he hoped was a professional manner.

“Mr Wartson!” Merlin said, perhaps a little too loudly and happily.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Merlin!”

Stepping back Merlin allowed his patient to enter the room. He tried to gauge Arthur's mood, seeing how he moved and held himself, but he didn't seem any different to how he was when he'd entered Merlin's rooms the previous day.

“I wasn't sure I'd see you today,” Merlin said. “I heard about your father.”

Arthur smiled, but only a little. “He's much... better,” Arthur said. “Even... took breakfast this... morning.”

“Oh that's good,” Merlin said, smiling. He was relieved on Arthur's behalf. “And your uncle?”

Arthur’s face darkened at the mention of his uncle. “He's at... home,” Arthur said. “Arrived this... morning.”

Not wanting to push Arthur any more Merlin decided to take his mind off things by introducing a few new exercises. “All right,” he said. “Let’s start with you lying on the floor.”

“Why is it... you always...want me on the... floor?”

“It's good for a prince to learn humility,” Merlin replied, indicating what he thought was a relatively clean spot for Arthur to lie on.

Despite giving Merlin what might pass as a fairly annoyed look Arthur went and lay down on the floor. He shifted about a bit, as if getting comfortable.

“Ready?” Merlin asked.

“Not really,” Arthur said.

Before he had a chance to ask anything else Merlin went and sat down on his patient's chest. It was probably the shock that stopped Arthur trying to leap to his feet. “Merlin?” he wheezed.

“I'm not that heavy, don't complain,” Merlin said.

“You are when you are... on my chest,” Arthur said, sounding strained.

“This is to help your breathing,” Merlin told him.

“I can't... breathe,” Arthur replied, sounding a little stubborn, he tried to shift under Merlin but couldn't.

“Yes you can. Now deep breath in,” Merlin instructed. He could feel Arthur manage to take quite a deep breath despite his discomfort. He felt himself raise up a little, as if Arthur was some small inflatable seat. The thought amused Merlin and he tried not to laugh. “Now breathe out,” Merlin said.

Arthur breathed out and Merlin felt himself go lower.

“Is that it?” Arthur asked.

Merlin looked down at Arthur. It was a privileged view he had. He doubted anyone else had looked into the eyes of the Prince whilst sitting on his chest before. “No,” Merlin said. “This time I want you to hold your breath before you exhale.”

Arthur nodded and took a deep breath in, his face showing plain determination. Merlin smiled at him and they began again.

Eventually after a good five minutes of that exercise Merlin got up and helped Arthur to his feet. His hand might have lingered in Arthur's but he was only making sure his patient was all right.

“How was that?” Merlin asked.

“Exhausting,” Arthur replied. “How can I... practice that?”

“I suppose you can’t ask Lady Morgana?”

Arthur gave a frown. “You’ve met my sister.”

Merlin had also heard the stories and the Lady Morgana was not someone he would want sitting on his chest. “Perhaps we should keep this between the two of us then.”

“I think... that would be wise,” Arthur said, although he was smiling.

The rest of the exercises were simpler. Merlin still touched Arthur, felt his breathing, helping him position himself best. With every touch Merlin could feel his professional control slip a little. It was ridiculous, he had touched many patients, many male patients, before but somehow this was different. Then again Arthur was no ordinary patient.

With every exercise Arthur seemed to relax a little. It was good for him to lose a few of those inhibitions, it could only help. Merlin took a secret delight in seeing Arthur smile when he managed to hold an 'ahhhh' for a good thirty seconds. Arthur deserved to take pride in the little victories he was making, the slight gains and tiny improvements.

At the end of the session Merlin was extremely pleased with Arthur's progress. He was a willing patient and that alone would stand him in good stead.

“Now don't forget to practice what you can,” Merlin said. “Except maybe the sitting one.”

“You are the only person... that will be sitting on me,” Arthur said.

That gave Merlin a warm feeling as they shook hands and made their goodbyes.

“Could I have another... of your business cards?” Arthur asked. “I... misplaced your number.”

Going over to his desk Merlin pulled out one of his business cards and gave it to Arthur who took it eagerly. He read it carefully before placing it in his pocket.

“You did really well today, Arthur,” Merlin said.

Arthur lowered his head.

“I mean it. I don't flatter my patients. Not even princes.”

“That's true,” Arthur said.

“I hope your father gets better soon.”

Looking up Arthur smiled weakly. “Me too.”

Waving his patient off, Merlin hoped that the King would improve. All Arthur needed was a little more time, he could feel it. Already Arthur was showing improvement and was probably going to go on Merlin's star pupil list. All he needed was a little time.

******************************************************************************

As soon as he got back to the palace Arthur found he had been summoned to a meeting in his father's study. As he went inside he realised his father was absent. However, his Uncle Tristan was there along with Doctor Gaius and the Chief Minister; Geoffrey of Monmouth. They all looked rather solemn and Arthur's heart leapt into his throat even as it began to tighten.

“My... f...f...father?” he asked, forcing the word out as he tried to control his breathing.

“Your father is recovering,” Gaius said. “But as I told you he needs rest.”

“And... w...w.hy are you... here?” he asked his uncle, trying not to sound intimidated. His uncle, dressed in a black suit, was the very picture of intimidating and Arthur had witnessed many a political rival of his uncle’s lose their argument before it had even begun.

“I'm here out of concern for my brother- in-law of course,” Tristan said. “It is a matter that concerns the whole kingdom.”

“He's getting... better,” Arthur said. His uncle rarely showed concern outside of his own ambition.

“Yes, but we have a problem,” Tristan said, smiling like a cat about to pounce. “Don't we Geoffrey?”

Geoffrey nodded. “Indeed. Your father was due to launch a new warship in a few weeks time in Enged.”

“The... HMSA Wyvern,” Arthur said. He'd served in the navy and still kept in touch with his colleagues, one of whom had been picked to be the first officer on the new ship.

“Yes. We cannot delay the launch with Mercia preparing to invade the Western Isles. They would see it as a sign of weakness that we weren't prepared,” Geoffrey said, solemnly.

“And we can't let that happen of course,” Tristan said, smoothly. “You understand that, don’t you, Arthur?”

Arthur ignored his uncle's tone. “Of course.” Arthur knew full well that war with Mercia was a strong possibility. The Wyvern was their most advanced warship and a key part of any military action in the future.

“I told you he would understand,” Tristan said to Geoffrey, as if he were an adult speaking about a child. Arthur bristled.

“I do,” Arthur said. He kept his responses short and deliberate, not letting his stammer trip him up. He was nervous enough as it was.

“Good. We have arranged for you to launch the ship,” Geoffrey said. “In your father's place. Lord Du Bois suggested it would be a decisive move by us.”

Looking at his uncle Arthur was sure that his motives were not related to Albion's security. Tristan seemed confident, as if it was he who had been chosen.

“You will do it, won’t you, Arthur?” Tristan asked.

“I... will always do my... duty,” Arthur said, firmly, carefully breathing as Merlin had taught him. “When?”

“The launch is on the twenty third of this month,” Geoffrey said. “I've been assured that the date cannot be brought further forward without comprising the build completion and to delay it would be unwise.”

“That means you have nearly three weeks to prepare,” Tristan said, smiling again. “I'm sure it won't be an issue.”

“It won't,” Arthur said. He was not going to be humiliated. He was not going to give his uncle the satisfaction.

“Excellent,” Geoffrey said. “We're going to be broadcasting the launch throughout the Empire in order to show Mercia we are not intimidated.”

“A good idea, don't you think, Arthur?” Tristan asked.

“Yes,” Arthur replied, his heart pounding. “It is.”

After the plans had been finalised, Arthur went to his rooms and immediately took the business card out of his pocket. He picked up the telephone called the operator.

“What number please?” she asked.

“Emrys357, please,” Arthur replied.

Just at that moment Morgana entered his rooms, he had forgotten to lock the door. As asked for the operator to connect him he motioned at her to keep quiet and lock the door. He heard the lock click and Morgana stood far enough away so as not to distract him.

The telephone was answered at the other end. “Hello, Merlin Emerson, speech therapist.”

“Merlin,” Arthur said. “I need your... help.”

“Arthur? What's wrong?” Merlin sounded concerned.

“I need to... make a speech. In... three weeks... I...”

“It's all right, Arthur, breathe, we can do this. You can do this. I'll make our sessions longer and I'll start working out some techniques to help you when you're reading a speech out.”

“Thank you, Merlin.”

“You don't need to thank me, Arthur. I'm happy to help.”

“Thank you anyway,” Arthur said. Just the sound of Merlin's voice helped him relax a little. He had faith in Merlin’s therapies and he knew he wouldn't be facing his speeches alone.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Merlin said.

“Tomorrow,” Arthur replied. He put the phone down and breathed a sigh of relief.

“I had heard what Uncle Tristan's great plan is,” Morgana said, coming over to the desk. “How could he do that to you?

“It's okay, Morgana,” Arthur said. “Merlin will... help me.”

Morgana smiled. “You like him, don’t you?”

Arthur nodded. “Very much.”

He wouldn't admit it but Arthur felt he could easily fall in love with his therapist. Still, he would have to worry about that later. For now he had a speech to prepare for.

*****************************************************************************

There were several ways Merlin could prepare his patients to make speeches. Usually it helped if they had the speech ready. That way they could work off the exact speech and build up confidence. Unfortunately, Arthur's speech would not be ready for another week and half at the earliest. Apparently it had to go through committees and various drafts before it had final approval and Arthur could bring a copy to his therapy sessions.

This meant that Merlin had to improvise a little. He had several texts that he liked to use for his patients to practise speeches with. Several poems, sections of plays, and prose from novels. One of his favourite ones for speech was the poem 'I wandered lonely as a cloud', a classic with a nice rhythm to it.

The trouble was Arthur was having problems with the first line.

“I w...w...wandered,” Arthur paused. “lonely as a c...cloud.” He took a breath and shook his head. “I can't... do this.”

“You can,” Merlin reassured him, squeezing his shoulder. “Maybe if we changed the wandered to drifted. Here,” he said, holding out his hands. “Let me.”

Arthur handed over the poetry book and, with a pencil, Merlin began to scribble a few things onto the paper. He decided to put in the pauses that Arthur would need and altered a few words to try and make the sounds easier for Arthur to form. He put little marks on too in order to show where Arthur could skip over a word or into another.

“Isn't that defacing a... great poet’s... prose?” Arthur asked.

“Not when it's my book,” Merlin replied, placing the volume back into Arthur's hands. “Now I've put the pauses in, so when you get to one just take a second, take a breath and carry on. Some of the words you can skip onto.”

“I'm supposed to be able to... read your scribble?” Arthur asked.

“Try it, Arthur.”

Arthur took a deep breath, closed his eyes briefly and then opened them to focus on the book. Then to Merlin's relief he began to speak.

“I drifted lonely,” pause, “as a cloud.”

Merlin nodded as Arthur briefly paused.

“That floats,” pause, “on high, o'er vales and hills.”

The more Arthur read the more he seemed to get into his rhythm. There was the odd mistake when a pause went on too long, or Arthur paused in the wrong place, but overall it was a good first effort. If Arthur could apply the same techniques to the actual speech he would be doing well.

“You’ll be able to do this,” Merlin said.

“In front of Albion's... greatest dignitaries?” Arthur asked.

“Don't think about them. Think about you. You're going to say this speech to the people who will serve on the ship not some lords who’ve turned up for the buffet.”

For a moment Merlin wondered if he had stepped over the line but then Arthur's hearty laughter rang out and he joined in.

****************************************************************************

The next couple of weeks were spent practising the technique of giving speeches. Merlin was pleased with Arthur's progress, but when he came with the actual speech it seemed they were back at square one, as Arthur began to stumble over his words again.

The problem was the speech had not been written with Arthur in mind. It had been written by aides to the Royal family and government ministers. Very little of it was Arthur's own words and the speech did not play to Arthur’s strengths but merely highlighted his weakness.

“Ladies and gentlemen...It is my pleasure...to w...welcome you to the launch..of the good ship HMSA W..wyvern. The K..king is sadly unable to attend but I c...come bearing his good w...wishes and thanks to the c...rew and all those who have made this...p..possible...” Arthur threw the paper on the floor. “I can't...I can't say it, Merlin,” he said, with a heavy sigh.

“You can,” Merlin said, picking the paper, smoothing it out a little. “With practice and a few changes.” He handed it back to Arthur.

“Merlin, my speech has to be... approved by the Royal ministers.”

“You are the Prince, Arthur,” Merlin said. “A prince should have the ultimate decision on his speeches. We won't change the essence of the speech, just a few words.”

Arthur looked up. “Such as?”

“Instead of 'the king' say 'my father' and instead of 'good wishes' say 'best wishes'. You can bounce off the 'best' into wishes more easily than 'good',” Merlin suggested. “I'll work out the pauses you need and we can go from there, all right?”

Arthur nodded. “Thank you, Merlin.”

“You can thank me after your government advisers don't arrest me for treason,” Merlin said, only half joking. He'd heard the zeal of some of the royal council.

“They wouldn’t,” Arthur paused. “Because it was my idea.”

Merlin smiled. “You have some very good ideas,” he said.

*****************************************************************************

A couple of days later the changes had been approved. It had taken some debate but Arthur had stood his ground, enlisting Gaius's help and support to persuade Geoffrey. Eventually Geoffrey had agreed the changes added a much needed personal touch. The changes had been approved remarkably quickly really.

“My uncle wasn't... happy though,” Arthur said, as he held a copy of the speech with Merlin's annotations. He could make out Merlin's various scribbles now and they comforted him, familiar marks that helped him like marks an actor had upon a stage for his performance.

“Why not?” Merlin asked, frowning.

“He thought I was... undermining the advice of my... ministers,” Arthur replied.

“I didn't think your uncle liked democracy that much.”

“I don't think he does,” Arthur said, quietly.

From what Merlin had heard, second-hand of course, he thought Arthur was right. Lord Du Bois seemed rather more interested in his own gain.

“Does your father like him?” Merlin asked.

Arthur shrugged. “I'm not sure my f...father likes anybody. Except Morgana.”

Merlin placed a reassuring hand on Arthur's shoulder. “You're going to make him proud when you read this speech out,” Merlin said. “And your father is an idiot for not showing he likes you.”

“Risking... treason again, Merlin?” Arthur asked. “He is my f...father.”

“I'm not that keen on being beheaded,” Merlin replied. “And yes, he's your father, but even kings should show their children they love them.”

Arthur's eyes said it all as sadness showed plainly through the façade Arthur tried to keep up most of the time, a façade Merlin was gradually getting Arthur to drop in his company. He thought perhaps no-one saw Arthur as vulnerable as he did. It was another reason why he had fallen for Arthur.

He loved him. Even if it was too dangerous to admit. He coughed and realised he had been staring at Arthur, his hand resting on his shoulder. He removed his hand and smiled. “Now take a deep breath and start reading, count a rhythm in your head just like I told you.”

Arthur nodded and turned his attention back to the speech.

*****************************************************************************

A few days later and Arthur was on his last session before he had to deliver the speech. He was more nervous than usual, the way he was standing was stiff and formal, and Merlin had his work cut out. If Arthur was stumbling in front of Merlin who knew what he was going to be like speaking out in front of the entire nation, the entire empire.

“Just imagine it like a symphony,” Merlin said. “Keep to your rhythm and breathe.”

Arthur sighed and began again. “Ladies and g...gentlemen. It is my honour... t...to be h...here... today... to launch our new ship... It's no... good, Merlin.

“You can pause, Arthur, you don't have to be perfect,” Merlin said, putting a hand on Arthur’s shoulder and rubbing lightly.

“The nation w...w...will be listening,” Arthur ground out the words.

Merlin could tell Arthur's stress wasn't helping his speech. “Then don't say it to the nation. Say it to me,” Merlin said. “Just me.”

“I don't... know if I c...can,” Arthur said.

Without really thinking about what the gesture meant, Merlin ran a finger down Arthur's jaw and turned him to face him. Arthur didn't flinch at the intimate gesture. “You're going to be brilliant,” Merlin said.

He found himself leaning forward and then his lips brushed ever so gently against Arthur's. In the moment it took him to process the sensation he realised he'd just stepped over a very important boundary. He pulled back but Arthur put an arm around his waist, preventing him from moving back further.

“I want you there tomorrow,” he said quietly. He was looking at Merlin in a way he hadn't before, at least Merlin hadn't noticed.

“I don't think I'd be allowed,” Merlin pointed out.

“I'm the Prince,” Arthur replied. “We'll find a way.”

“If you think it would help,” Merlin said, moving closer to Arthur and once again stepping over all the boundaries of a professional.

“It will.”

“I'll be there,” Merlin whispered.

The gap between them closed again and Merlin gave into it. After Arthur had made his speech he could think about the consequences but until then he couldn't let go of what was between them. It had never been harder to say goodbye to Arthur at the end of a session, and Merlin knew the next time he saw him Arthur would be delivering his first speech since he'd begun therapy.

It would be a test for them both.

*****************************************************************************

On the morning of the speech, Arthur woke up feeling as if his stomach was in knots and his head was spinning. He'd faced many things in his time as Crown Prince but never had he faced such an important task as the one he had in front of him. This was a speech that many were marking out as a gauge as to how Arthur would cope with Kingship. He knew all eyes would be watching him.

Yet there was only person he wanted, needed, to watch him; Merlin.

He had spoken with Morgana, who had spoken with Gaius, who had arranged for Merlin to have a place in the stands opposite Arthur. It was unlikely Arthur would be able to see Merlin, he would be but one face among many, but he would know that he was there. The only thing preventing him from giving into his nerves was the knowledge that Merlin would be there and more than that that Merlin believed in him.

Maybe that was why Arthur had fallen for him. It was a cliché to fall in love with one's therapist, usually it was confined to the novels Morgana and her maid read, but Arthur had, completely and utterly. He needed Merlin, yes, but even if he had had perfect speech Arthur was sure he would have found himself loving Merlin had he ever had the opportunity to meet him.

After the speech was over perhaps they discuss their new situation. Men were not forbidden to have relationships with other men, there was nothing in law nor the Old Religion to prohibit it. There was the issue of Arthur being the Crown Prince, but he already knew titles were things that interested Merlin, it wouldn't stand in their way.

There was a knock at the door and Morgana entered as Arthur finished buttoning his jacket.

“Are you ready?” she asked. “They're all waiting for you.”

Arthur nodded, smoothing the fabric of his clothes, brushing off lint that wasn’t there. “I'm ready.”

Morgana kissed his cheek. “You'll be fine today,” she said. “Don’t worry about any of them.” She gestured outside.

“I'm not saying this... for them,” Arthur said.

“I know,” Morgana replied. “Good luck.”

The drive to the shipyard in Enged took almost an hour, and during that hour Arthur kept glancing at the briefcase that held his speech. He had almost memorised it by now, but he knew it would do no good to brood on it. Instead he concentrated on his breathing and calmed himself gently.

When they pulled up outside the shipyard Arthur could already see crowds beginning to gather. Public events were always well attended in Albion and this, it seemed, was no exception. Percival drove him around to the VIP entrance at the back of the stands. Hopefully that would avoid the public and the always too nosy reporters.

As Arthur exited the car Percival smiled. “Good luck, Sir,” he said.

“Thank you,” Arthur replied, clutching his briefcase tightly. He made his way inside to where Gaius and Geoffrey were waiting for him. Arthur was relieved his uncle wasn't there.

“We're almost ready for you,” Geoffrey said. “We've done a test on the microphone. You'll be live in five minutes.

Arthur nodded. His mouth felt dry. He put the briefcase onto the table and took out his speech. He didn't look at it and tried to keep it hidden hoping no-one would notice the notes Merlin had made for him.

“Ready, Sir?” Gaius asked.

“Yes,” he replied, glancing up at the stairs. “Shall w...we?”

There was a moment of concern on Geoffrey's face before he led the way up the stairs and into the stand. Arthur followed him, with Gaius bringing up the rear. As he took each step Arthur mentally counted them and timed his breathing to match.

Finally, they reached the stand where the dreaded microphone lay in wait like a lion waiting to pounce upon its prey. Arthur tried not to show his nerves as he stepped up to it and laid his speech out on the lectern in front of him. He didn't shuffle his papers but carefully smoothed a hand over them.

Glancing up he could see the crowds gathered all around and the ship in the dock before him. The bottle of mead dangled from the rope, held in place by a piece of ribbon. Once the words were said he would send the bottle sailing toward its target, but first he had to say his speech.

Looking at the stand opposite for a moment he panicked but then he saw Merlin. He was so small and almost unrecognisable among the vast crowd, but Arthur would know him anywhere. He focussed in on where Merlin was as Geoffrey frantically began to gesture to the light in front of Arthur. The red light blinked a couple of times and then came on.

Arthur took a deep breath and filtered out everything around him. He imagined the crowd melting away to leave a single solitary figure opposite. In his mind he was a conductor and the words his symphony. With that final thought he looked down and began to read out his speech.

“Ladies and gentlemen. It is my honour,” breathe, “to be here,” pause, “today,” another breath, “to launch our new ship,” pause, “the HMSA W..wyvern,” The 'W' tripped Arthur up but the end of the sentence afforded a longer pause. “ My father,” a breath, “is sadly unable,” a breath, “to attend,” a pause “but I come bearing his best wishes,” a quick pause, “and thanks to all those who have made this,” a leap onto the next word, “possible. This ship,” a pause to deal with the set of 's' sounds, “sets sail,” a breath, “with one of the finest,” another pause onto the c, “crews,” a quick breath, “in Albion,” a pause, “and I am sure,” a breath, “you will all join me,” pause, “in offering our respect to them,” a quick breath, “and passing on,” a pause, “our hope of a...” a breathe before the 's', “successful first voyage. I do not believe,” a pause, “that luck will be needed,” a breath, “although I am sure a little will not be,” a pause for the tricky bit, “unwelcome.” Another pause, more natural. “So I name this ship,” a breath, “the HMSA W...Wyvern,” a pause to get over the 'w', “may the gods bless her and all,” a pause before the 'w' and 's' sounds, “who sail in her.”

The red light was still on as Arthur untied the ribbon and took hold of the bottle of mead. He held it up and ready to be released and picked out Merlin. He wondered if it was his imagination, or if Merlin was smiling. He let go of the bottle, and it happily smashed into the ship releasing the liquid inside across the surface of the hull in a cascade.

The ship now began to slide from the docks into the sea. The crowd were cheering, the noise was deafening but as far as Arthur was concerned it could have all been silence. He had done it, he had made it through his first speech. There had been the odd slip up but compared to his last speech it had been near perfect.

The feeling of euphoria stayed with Arthur as he left the stand and was congratulated by Gaius and Geoffrey.

“Very well done, Sir,” Geoffrey said. “Your father would be proud.”

“Well done, Arthur,” Gaius said, smiling.

“Thank you, “Arthur replied. His knees felt a little wobbly.

He had to stay for awhile to mingle with the top navy brass. Luckily he had known them for years and was relaxed enough not to worry too much about his speech patterns when speaking to them. They were all familiar with Arthur's issues and his stammer, though they kept a polite silence about it.

“That really was an excellent speech,” Captain Leon said. “You father will be proud I'm sure.”

“Thank you,” Arthur said. He didn't yet know what his father's reaction was, but he hoped it was positive.

*****************************************************************************

When he returned to the palace he felt confident, right up until the moment his uncle appeared.

“Can I have a word, Arthur?” he asked. “In private.”

They went into Arthur's father's study. It felt wrong when Tristan went behind his father's desk. It was not his place, he was not Arthur's father, and he should not be taking the position of the king. Tristan touched a pen lying on the desk as if it belonged to him.

“I am sure my f...father will be back doing his p...paperwork in here... very soon,” Arthur said.

Tristan smiled, but it wasn't particularly friendly. “I'm sure he will. In the meantime I would like to offer my congratulations. That was quite the speech, Arthur.”

“Thank you, Uncle.”

Tristan played with pen again. “I was surprised to hear you speak so,” he paused, “clearly.”

“I've been... practising,” Arthur said, feeling his nerves begin to affect him as his throat tightened.

“Yes, and so you should,” Tristan said. “After all your father might need you to step into some other aspects of his role. Make some more speeches on his behalf.”

“I will always... do my duty,” Arthur said, firmly.

“Yes, I'm sure you shall.” Tristan didn’t look too happy at the prospect.

“Well, now we're... finished here,” Arthur said, indicating it was he who would end the conversation. “I promised Morgana I would... speak with her.”

For a moment Tristan looked taken aback. “Yes, of course.”

Arthur left the study quietly but inside he was seething. His uncle had no right to act the way he did. Yet Arthur could not find a way to challenge him. His confidence seemed to evaporate in front of his older relatives, the ones who had seen him struggle with his speech since he'd been a child. His uncle made him feel like he was six years old again.

Morgana also seemed worried when he told her what had happened in the privacy of her rooms.

“I don't like it, Arthur. Tristan is up to something. He's been having meetings with some of the more important members of the court. He's barely visited Uther at all.”

“What do you think...he's planning?”

“I don’t know, but be careful, Arthur,” Morgana clasped his hand.

“How is f...father?” Arthur asked.

“Stable,” Morgana replied.

That hadn't been the positive comment Arthur had hoped for. He had hoped his father was getting better. His face must have shown as much.

“He'll be all right,” Morgana added. “It just takes time.”

Arthur nodded, though he had a feeling that Morgana wasn't telling him something. There was worry etched in her face and she was paler than usual.

“Your speech was excellent,” she said. “Even Uther liked it.”

“He did?” The approval of his father would mean true success.

Morgana nodded. “He said you were much improved even if he thought some of your pauses were too long.”

“I should see him,” Arthur said, standing up.

“Later,” Morgana replied. “He's resting.

Seeing her concern Arthur sat back down. “What aren't you... telling me, Morgana?”

His sister looked down. “Uther may never fully recover, Arthur,” she said. “The doctors want him to go to the country to rest and recuperate but he refuses to go. His heart is damaged, Arthur, and they can't cure him.”

“H...h...how long?” Arthur asked once the implication had sunk in, he leaned back in the chair in shock.

“Maybe a year if he stays here. He could have a few more if he moved out of the city.”

Arthur felt the world fall out from under him. He had always known his father was going to die, it was a fact of life but this...? “So s...s...soon?”

“He's mortal, Arthur, he always has been.”

“I'm not... ready,” Arthur said.

“You're more ready than you know,” Morgana whispered.

*****************************************************************************

It had been a rough night for Merlin. He had watched Arthur give his speech and he had never been more proud but afterwards, seeing all the people cheering, Merlin remembered the kiss and the line he had sworn not to cross, but had. How he had ever thought he and Arthur would work romantically he had no idea, he put it down to naivete.

Arthur belonged to Albion, to his people, to his duty. Merlin was selfish enough to want Arthur to belong to him too. However, he was not selfish enough to push himself before anything else. Much as it hurt, and much as his heart ached, he made the choice to end things with Arthur before they had begun.

Albion deserved her prince and Merlin would not take him from her.

The next morning he went into his rooms feeling distracted. A few of his patients asked if he was unwell. Merlin certainly felt sick but he had to stick it out. He apologised to his patients but all of them offered sympathy.

“You'll... be... okay,” Freya had told him. “You need.. .to sleep more.”

Merlin was pretty sure he wouldn't be all right or okay. He almost wished the clock would stop. However, where once the minutes would tick slowly by to the time of Arthur’s regular appointment now they sped up. Merlin knew he wasn't ready when he heard footsteps outside the door.

As Arthur entered, Merlin couldn't even meet his eyes. It was best to just get it over with. When Arthur moved to touch Merlin, hug him perhaps, Merlin held his hand up to stop him.

“ Arthur, no, we can't do this,” he said.

“Why not?”

Ignoring the deeply wounded look in Arthur's eyes Merlin carried on. “I'm your therapist. I can't get involved with my patients and you're not just any patient! You're the Prince!”

“That didn't... matter before. What changed... your mind?”

“Seeing you yesterday,” Merlin said, quietly. He owed it to Arthur to be honest. “I saw how much the people love you and rely on you. I can’t put that in jeopardy.”

“It's not... your choice to make... Merlin!” Arthur said, raising his voice.

“We don't have a choice, Arthur. I can't be your therapist.”

“What?” Arthur looked shocked.

“I can't risk going over the line with you,” Merlin said, tears pricked at his eyes. “I know I have already and I shouldn't have. I'll find you another therapist.”

Arthur began to pace near the doorway, his shoes hitting the wooden floorboards with some force. “I don't... w...want another... therapist. I w...want you. I want... you... Merlin.”

“We all want things we can't have,” Merlin said. He wanted a man who didn't belong to him.

“You w...want to give... up?”

Merlin looked Arthur in the eye and what he saw hurt his very core. “I can't...”

Arthur shook his head and put his hand on the door handle. “No, Merlin...you choose...not to...try. I didn’t think....you would...give up...on anything. Good bye... Merlin.”

Arthur opened the door and as he left Merlin couldn’t even say goodbye. He told himself it was for the right reasons, that it was for Arthur's sake that he had said it. That was little comfort, however, when he was left in an empty room with the man he'd come to love walking out of his life. His heart hurt and his head ached.

He cancelled the rest of his appointments and went home.

*****************************************************************************

That evening Arthur didn't go down for dinner. He still felt sick. Merlin had rejected him. Worse, Merlin had rejected him because he was the prince. Arthur had thought his rank hadn't mattered to Merlin, that Merlin had seen who he really was, and maybe he had, but part of Merlin was still seeing the prince. The Crown Prince whose life had been built on duty to everyone but himself.

“Arthur, let me in,” Morgana called through the locked door. “Let me in or I'll get Gwen to fetch a locksmith.”

Sighing Arthur got up off the bed where he'd been sitting and went over to the door. He opened it to find Morgana looking worriedly at him. “Oh Arthur,” she said.

Arthur walked back into the room and sat down on his bed again, the soft sheets jarring against his emotions. “I don't... need sympathy.”

“What happened?” Morgana asked, sitting down beside him.

“I fell in love... with Merlin,” Arthur said. “Only he... he wanted to... he won’t see me. Be...cause I'm the... prince,” Arthur spat out the last word.

“Arthur, you never make it easy for yourself,” Morgana said, hugging him. “Merlin will come around, you'll see.”

“I can't... carry on,” Arthur said.

“No, you prove to Merlin you can do it. You show him the man you are. You show him what he's missing.”

“I... miss... him,”Arthur said. “Knowing I'm... not going to... see him... tomorrow.”

“I know,” Morgana said. “But you still have your duty.”

For the first time in his life Arthur felt a certain resentment toward his duty. Yet, even now, he knew he couldn't give it up. “I know,” he said. He just wished Merlin had seen that Arthur deserved more.

****************************************************************************

The next two weeks were a rough time for Merlin. All his patients remarked on how depressed he seemed. Little Freya even brought him a fruitcake from her mother to try and cheer him up. Merlin had known letting Arthur go wouldn't be easy, but he hadn't thought it would be this hard.

He kept up with the papers, read about the king's worsening health. Arthur seemed to have more public engagements now, and although Merlin would like to think it proved him right in ending his relationship, however that was defined, with Arthur, the truth was he wasn't sure it did. In pictures Arthur looked strained and his speeches weren't apparently of the standard he'd showed at the ship launching.

Arthur's role as Crown Prince was suffering.

It was one evening, when he was in the sitting room, that he saw the headline on the front of the newspaper Lancelot was reading about the health of the king, that Merlin started to wonder if he had helped Arthur at all by saying he couldn't be anything to him.

As if reading Merlin's mind Gwaine, who had been messing with an old beer bottle, spoke. “What happened to your great rich patient, Merlin? You've not talked about him in weeks.”

“Nothing,” Merlin said, hoping Gwaine would drop the subject.

“Nothing? You used to talk about him all the time. You said he'd be great,” Gwaine said. “You said he had the most potential of any patient you'd ever had. What happened?”

“He still does!” Merlin said. “He's still going to be a great man but he can't do that with me.”

“Why not?” asked Lancelot, putting down his newspaper and taking interest in the conversation.

“I crossed a line,” Merlin admitted, clutching his mug of tea. “He was my patient and I...” Merlin broke off. “He had a duty. I was in the way.”

“How do you know?” Gwaine asked. “Did you ask him?”

“I didn't have to ask him,” Merlin said.

“Perhaps you should have,” Lancelot said.

“Unless you didn't have any feelings for him” Gwaine said, casually picking up the beer bottle again and twirling it.

“Of course I had feelings for him!” Merlin said.

Lancelot leaned forward. “Merlin, there's nothing wrong with love.”

“It's unprofessional! I can't get involved with my patients,” Merlin said. He did not add the particular high rank of his patient.

“So make sure he doesn't pay you,” Gwaine said, shrugging.

“What?” Merlin turned to look at his friend.

“What Gwaine means is there's no law to say you can't help someone you love with their problems.”

“If he doesn’t pay you then he's not your patient. You're just his helpful boyfriend,” Gwaine said, with a grin, holding up the bottle.

“You've been miserable, Merlin. He made you happy,” Lancelot added.

“But he has a duty,” Merlin said, glancing down at the newspaper now forgotten on the floor.

“And it's his choice about how he does it,” Gwaine said. “If he's as good as you say he is then I think he could cope with you as a boyfriend.”

“I pushed him away...”

Rolling his eyes Gwaine got up and hauled Merlin to his feet. Merlin nearly spilled tea everywhere. “You need to stop being so self-sacrificing. Make it up to him and let him decide,”

“How?”

“Write him a love letter? When Gwen and I had our first fight I begged her to speak to me and sent her a letter of everything I couldn’t say. It worked,” Lancelot said.

Looking at his two friends Merlin knew deep down they were right. “All right. I'll try it.”

That night Merlin wrote Arthur a letter. He poured out everything into the words, hoping it would be enough. For a speech therapist it wasn't often he was lost for words, although he had never written anything more important. By the time he had finished his wrist was aching and Merlin was sure he had bent the nib of his pen.

The only trouble would be how to get it to Arthur.

Merlin didn't dare send it through the post. He knew that any letter for a member of the Royal family was likely to be opened and checked by aides. The last thing Merlin wanted was for his love letter to end up being seen by a court official. He had only one option – he would have to hand deliver the letter to Arthur himself.

******************************************************************************

The next morning he cancelled his few appointments and headed to the palace. He had to park some way away and headed in on foot. He knew where the back entrance was, the one where lower level visitors and servants would enter. Arthur had mentioned it a few times during their sessions.

Luckily for Merlin there were no guards as he went through the gate and across the small courtyard toward the entrance. However once he was there he was met by an official looking guard. His name badge gave his name as 'B. Knight' and he looked more like a bare knuckle fighter than an official working for the Royal family.

“What's your business here?” the man asked.

“I need to see Prince Arthur,” Merlin said, clutching the letter.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No,” Merlin said. “It's an emergency.”

“I see.” Knight didn't look particularly impressed. Nor did he look as if he believed Merlin. “And you are?”

“Merlin Emerson,” Merlin said. “It is urgent.”

“Is it official business?”

“Not exactly,” Merlin said. He wasn't about to divulge his professional, or hopefully personal, relationship with Arthur. “Please, just tell him I'm here.”

For a moment Merlin was worried that Knight would refuse the request. He had never felt more vulnerable than when the official looked at him. Merlin was glad he had at least worn his best suit which made him look a little less like a member of the public taking his chances.

“All right. I'll ask the Prince if he will see you,” Knight said and he disappeared inside.

The seconds went by slowly. Merlin didn’t know of that was a good thing or not. He moved the gravel around under his feet, occasionally kicking a small piece and watching it bounce. Eventually Knight reappeared, looking rather smug.

“He won't see you,” Knight said.

Merlin had been afraid of that, but seeing Arthur hadn't been his purpose. “Then give him this, please,” Merlin said, holding out the letter.

“I can't give him an unauthorised letter,” Knight said, with a snooty air, not even looking down at the letter.

“He has to see this,” Merlin said. “Please.”

Knight was still looking at Merlin with disdain as an important looking black car pulled up and a man in naval uniform stepped out.

“Ah, Captain Leon,” Knight said, bowing in feigned deference. “So good to see you.”

Captain Leon said nothing to Knight. Instead he looked at Merlin. “Are you serving this gentleman?” he asked Knight.

“This gentleman,” Knight said, grinding out the words. “Was just leaving.”

“But I need you to give the Prince this letter,” Merlin pleaded, holding out the letter again.

“And I told you I cannot take an unofficial letter,” Knight replied.

It was almost enough to make Merlin give up hope until Captain Leon held out his hand. “I'll take it,” he said. “If that's all right?”

Merlin breathed a sigh of relief and handed his precious burden to Capitan Leon. “Thank you,” he said.

Captain Leon offered him a smile. “It's no trouble.” He turned to Knight. “Now, if you don't mind I have an appointment with the Prince.”

“Of course, Sir,” Knight said, although he was clearly unhappy at being usurped from his authority.

“Thank you,” Merlin said, casually. “I'll be going now.”

He caught sight of the anger on Knight's face as he turned away and went out from the courtyard away for the palace and away from Arthur. He had done what he could and the rest was up to Arthur; it was his choice now. Merlin just hoped that Arthur would choose him.

****************************************************************************

There were few things that Arthur felt he had to look forward to any more. No longer did he have his daily sessions with Merlin and the relief they brought him. Now Arthur had to face his challenges alone. He sat through endlessly boring meetings, read similarly boring reports, and all the while he had to be the prince everyone expected him to be. It was becoming tiresome, so he was relieved his next meeting would be more informal.

“Leon,” he said, as his old friend entered Arthur's study. “It's good... to see you,” Arthur said, grasping Leon's hand and shaking it warmly.

“You too, Arthur,” Leon replied.

“Please have a... seat,” Arthur said, going to sit down himself.

“Oh, before I forget,” Leon said, holding out what looked like some sort of letter. “There was a man outside who wanted to give you this. He said it was urgent.”

Arthur took the envelope and peered at the writing: 'Prince Arthur Pendragon, Camelot Palace' it read. The writing looked familiar. It was the scrawl of a doctor. Or a therapist. “What did the man look like?”

“Tall, dark hair, blue eyes, ears,” Leon replied.

Merlin. It had to be. Only Merlin would risk hand delivering a letter to the Prince. The thought warmed Arthur a little before he squashed it down.

“Do you know him?” Leon asked.

Placing the letter down Arthur slid it under his blotter, out of sight of prying eyes. “I met him... a few times,” Arthur said, hoping his stutter would not be picked up as the lie it was. “How are things... in the naval business?” he asked, changing the subject.

Leon did not look convinced by Arthur's lie, but he was too good a friend, and far too well mannered, to enquire further about it. He answered Arthur's questions as they discussed the movements of Mercia's ships into the territorial waters around the Western isles.

“If they're researching fish migration patterns I'm in the air-force,” Leon said.

“It's s...serious then?”

“If we're lucky we'll have another six to eight months before they attack,” Leon said. “But war is coming and we'll need someone we can stand behind.”

Arthur saw the look Leon was giving him. “I'm not sure that's... me,” he said.

“It might have to be,” Leon replied. “We’re all behind you, Arthur. Don't forget that.”

“I won't,” Arthur said. The depth of Leon's loyalty sometimes surprised him, but he was grateful for it.

They continued to talk about other subjects, some lighter than the possibility of war. Leon always had interesting tales of what the junior officers got up to in their off hours in Albion's ports. When their meeting was over Arthur was sorry to see Leon leave. He shook his hand again to say farewell.

“It's been good... to see you,” Arthur said.

Leon offered a smile. “You too.” Leon glanced at the desk. “Good luck, Arthur.”

Once Leon was gone Arthur headed back to the desk and took out the letter he had secreted away earlier. He placed it in front of him and looked at it. He was puzzled as to why Merlin was writing to him. Merlin had made his feelings perfectly clear all those weeks ago.

Arthur was half in a mind to dispose of the letter unopened, but he missed Merlin and here was a tangible thing to connect Merlin with. His head said no but his heart screamed yes, and eventually it was his heart that won out as he picked the letter up and opened the envelope.

He took out the letter itself and began to read as best as he could. Merlin's writing wasn't particularly easy to read.

'Dear Arthur,

I know that sorry probably isn't enough but I'm going to apologise anyway. I'm sorry. I thought I was helping you by releasing you to do your duty but now I wonder if I was only helping myself avoid a difficult situation.

I felt a great deal of responsibility being the speech therapist to the Crown Prince but the partner, the lover, of the Prince would have been that much more. I'm not sure I would be worthy of it.

I'm not sure I am worthy of you.

When the people look at you they see the Crown Prince of Albion. When I look at you I see Arthur, a man who is going to make a great king. And because I see you as a great king I cannot be selfish enough to keep you from the people who see you too.

However, I have realised that it is not my palace to dictate your choices to you, to decide what your course of action should be.

If you wish, your old appointment time is always free. Although sometimes I go home because I can't bear to spend that hour in my rooms waiting for you.

I'll leave the decision in your hands.

All my love and friendship,

Merlin'

Arthur read over the letter again, taking in each word, black and stark against the page. Even now Merlin seemed to understand him, even now Merlin spoke to Arthur's heart, seeing past the title and the position Arthur had been born into. Part of Arthur wished immediately for a reconciliation but he couldn't. Not yet.

Merlin had hurt him, badly, and Arthur wasn't sure he was ready to make the decision to once again place his heart in Merlin's hands. He trusted Merlin with his speech, his voice, but anything else Arthur wasn't sure about.

Part of him was also angry as it was clear that Merlin understood exactly how much he had hurt Arthur, and yet he had pushed him away regardless. That rejection was not so easily solved, as much as Arthur wished it might be. He folded the letter up and put it in his pocket, close to his heart.

****************************************************************************

For the next three weeks Arthur would often take the letter out and read it. He kept it close and kept it hidden. He was careful not to let anyone else even be aware of it. The creases in the paper had become worn, he had taken it out and unfolded and refolded it so often.

He carried it with him whenever he went to see his father, making sure it was carefully concealed. Even in his weakened state Uther seemed to have Arthur constantly under scrutiny. On this particular evening his father was sitting up in bed, but he seemed quiet and reserved, his skin pale, almost grey.

“F...father? Arthur asked, sitting down next to the bed.

Uther look at him with sad eyes. “I miss your mother,” he said, quietly.

Arthur's mother had died on the day of Arthur's birth. His father had never remarried, preferring to remain the widowed King as the succession had been secured with the birth of a son. That his father had loved his mother Arthur had never doubted, but it seemed strange that his father was bringing this up now.

“I think her about her more now. I know I'll be with her soon.”

“Don't... talk like that... f...father...”

“Arthur, I know I'm dying. I don’t intend to die soon but one day I will.”

Arthur kept quiet, pressing his hands together. “I...”

“Support, Arthur, you'll need support. Your mother gave me a lot of strength in the early years.”

“Yes, F...father.”

“If I have one regret, it's that I never told her. Don't have regrets, Arthur.”

The words his father spoke echoed with Arthur. His heart beat merely a hair's breadth away from the love letter Merlin had written him. Arthur's anger seemed inconsequential when faced with that.

“I w...won't,” Arthur said.

That earned a small, weak smile from his father. “I wish Ygraine was here,” he said.

“I know,” Arthur replied, reaching out and touching his father's hand. He felt so old, cold to the touch.

That night when Arthur lay in his bed he brought out the letter and read it again by the light of his bedside lamp. Holding it up, the paper became almost transparent, Arthur could see the fibres of the paper locked together, giving each other strength. He could do with some strength himself and resolved the next day to see Merlin. It was time they had a talk.

****************************************************************************

It was half past two, and Merlin was at home in the kitchen, going through the cookbooks Gwen had lent him to see if there was something he could cook for dinner. Since he'd stopped seeing Arthur in the afternoon he had taken to coming home in between appointments. It was too painful to wait in his treatment rooms for Arthur. It was obvious that he was never going to come by now.

He was about to ponder the advantages of lamb versus beef stew when the doorbell rang. Merlin wasn't expecting anyone, and, as far as he knew, neither were Gwaine and Lancelot, both of whom were at work. Frowning, he went to the door.

When he opened it he got the shock of his life for there, on his doorstep, was the Crown Prince of Albion.

“Arthur?”

Arthur was holding something up. “I got your letter.”

“I sent it weeks ago.”

“I needed... time to think,” Arthur said. “C...can I come in?”

“Yes, of course,” Merlin said. He allowed Arthur to step inside.

He felt rather embarrassed. The house wasn't messy but it was a little shabby and untidy. The hall carpet was rather gaudy and bright, and the walls painted an interesting shade of yellow. It wasn't the sort of house to impress anyone, let alone Arthur.

He led Arthur into the kitchen which was at least clean and tidy. They both faced each other, more like two strangers than potential lovers.

“How is your father?” Merlin asked. He'd read the newspapers. They had downplayed the King's latest turn for the worse but it was clear to all that King Uther was not a well man.

“He's alive,” Arthur said. “He's not... but I didn't come here to talk... about him.”

“Why did you come here?” Merlin asked.

“You weren't... at your rooms,” Arthur replied.

“You read my letter?” Merlin asked.

“My father's illness made me... realise... life is too short to be away from the person I love,” Arthur looked straight at Merlin as he spoke.

“You love...”

“If I didn't it wouldn't... have hurt so much when you... p...pushed me away,” Arthur replied.

“I was an idiot. I'm sorry

“What you said... in your letter,” Arthur said. “All m...my life decisions have been made... for me. You were the one that... wasn't.”

Merlin could have interrupted but he knew it was better to let Arthur have his say. Merlin had already had his in the letter.

“You c...can't understand what it's like, Merlin. To have your life... dictated to you by your f...father, by your government... but I have a choice about who I... give my heart to.”

There was a pause and Merlin spoke quietly. “And who did you choose?”

“I choose you, Merlin. I chose you. I chose you... when you were sitting on top of me to help me... breathe. I chose you w...when you chewed the end of your... pencil before you made notes. In some ways you were another choice I... didn't have because I didn't just choose to fall in love with you. I just am.”

Merlin came closer and touched Arthur's cheek. “I chose you too.”

“I know. I...read your letter,” Arthur said. “It was surprisingly poetic.”

“I was good at poetry, in school. I could have been a poet or a writer,” Merlin smiled at the memory.

Arthur looked into Merlin's eyes, searching for something. “Why did you choose to be a... therapist?”

“When I was younger I was an English teacher,” Merlin said. “One year I had a boy in my class who had trouble speaking. No-one wanted to help him, the school, the doctors, they'd all turned a blind eye. I wondered how many other children were out there facing the same problem?” Merlin looked at Arthur. “That summer I went and I found a man called Doctor Taliesin. Everyone thought he was mad, he was trying things that had no medical basis, but they worked, Arthur. I saw a man who had spent his whole life hiding himself away suddenly be able to speak. So I studied, I learned everything I could. Then I went out there to help people, to give them back their voice.”

Arthur swallowed audibly.

“I was there,” Merlin said. “When you gave your speech at the exhibition, and I knew, I knew I could help you,” he put an arm around Arthur's waist. “I'm glad I got the chance.”

“You did more than help me,” Arthur whispered. “You know you did.”

“I can't have you as my patient, Arthur,” Merlin said, and he felt Arthur begin to pull back.

“Merlin...”

“Let me finish,” Merlin said, tightening his hold. “I can't have you as my patient but I'd like to be whatever you want me to be to you. Boyfriend, partner, lover, whatever you want to call it.”

Arthur's face lit up. “You will?”

“Yes. I can still help you but you're not my patient. You're not going to pay me and you're not going to have appointments like you did. Mr Wartson is officially finished as a patient but I can still help Arthur.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, Arthur, just...” Merlin didn't have time to finish that sentence before Arthur's lips met his.

This kiss was much more intense than the one they had shared earlier. It was one borne of fresh truths and determination. It was a kiss of equals, of two men who had found their way back to each other. Merlin could feel every touch, movement and caress and retuned it with fervour.

It was unclear how long the kiss would have gone on had they not been interrupted by the sound of the front door opening.

“Merlin! We're home,” Lancelot called.

Immediately Merlin stopped kissing Arthur and, taking hold of his arm, dragged him out of the kitchen and behind the door of the sitting room. “Oh gods. Gwaine! Lancelot!”

“Who?”

“The men I share the house with,” Merlin whispered. “They’re back early.”

“And?”

“And I've just been kissing the Crown Prince of Albion in our kitchen!” Merlin hissed.

Arthur frowned and then came out from behind the door. “Then I should introduce myself.”

Grabbing hold of Arthur's arm Merlin tried to pull him back into hiding. “No, Arthur, you can't do that.”

“Why not? I'm the Prince,” Arthur pulled forward, dislodging his arm from Merlin's grasp.

“That shouldn't be an excuse for everything,” Merlin said, albeit a little feebly.

“Merlin, if you're serious... about us, I should at least meet your friends,” Arthur said, sounding a little put out.

“It's probably too late to take that letter back now?” Merlin smiled weakly.

Arthur smiled back. “I think so.”

They left their hiding place and went into the kitchen. They were standing awkwardly by the kitchen table when Gwaine came in. At first he ignored them, offering Merlin a simple greeting of “Hello.” He began to search through the cupboards, completely missing the other person in the room. It was only when Lancelot entered that the penny dropped.

“Your Royal Highness?” Lancelot asked, staring at Arthur.

Gwaine immediately turned around, and bumped his head on the open cupboard door.

“I prefer 'Sir',” Arthur said.

“Merlin, what is the Crown Prince of Albion doing in our kitchen?” Gwaine asked, rubbing his head.

“Arthur, this is Lancelot and Gwaine my house mates,” Merlin said, gesturing at each in turn. “Lancelot, Gwaine, this is Crown Prince Arthur Pendragon.”

“We know who he is,” Gwaine said. “What's he doing here?”

Lancelot looked thoughtful. “He's your patient?” he asked.

“Technically, I'm... no longer Merlin's patient,” Arthur said, taking Merlin's hand in full view of the two other men.

Gwaine whistled. Lancelot looked shocked.

“I took your advice and wrote Arthur a letter,” Merlin said, feeling the whole conversation was a little surreal. “And he came to see me.”

“In our kitchen,” Gwaine repeated.

“Are you staying for tea?” Lancelot asked, smoothly, as if Arthur were just another visitor.

Arthur smiled. “I'd love to.”

Merlin tried not to groan as Gwaine went rooting for the best china teacups and Lancelot rummaged for spoons.

****************************************************************************

The next month passed by in a blur. For once Arthur felt content. He still worried for his father, but the king didn’t worsen any further. Gaius still had a grave look about him whenever he examined Uther, but for Arthur his father being stable meant he could at least allow himself to give some attention to Merlin. Wonderful Merlin who didn't mind when Arthur was called away.

They met these days in the small flat in the Tintagel area of the city which had been Arthur’s mother's before her marriage, and which had been passed to Arthur in her will. It was somewhere that was solely Arthur's, somewhere he could relax away from court.

“I'm sorry it's only small,” Arthur had said when he'd first taken Merlin there.

“Arthur, this place is nearly as big as my house.”

“So you don't like it then?”

Merlin had smiled at him. “Arthur, if this means we can spend time together without worrying about anyone barging in then of course I like it.”

It had been so simple after that. Of course despite their new surroundings Merlin had not let up on Arthur's therapy. If anything, now Arthur wasn't his patient he was even more zealous about making sure Arthur did his exercises.

“And breathe out,” Merlin said, as he pressed down on Arthur's stomach.

“Is that it?” Arthur asked.

“No, we've still got more exercises to do, Merlin said.

“You know I think I preferred it... when you were my therapist,” Arthur replied, lightly touching Merlin on the arm. He still wasn’t used to having the freedom to just reach out and touch another person.

Merlin put his hand over Arthur's. “Are you sure?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with suggestion.

“Perhaps not,” Arthur replied, and leaned forward to give Merlin a kiss.

When he returned to Camelot Palace that evening, Arthur felt euphoric. His and Merlin's courtship was a rather chaste affair so far, but he didn’t mind. He didn't mind the fact Merlin had had him singing out of the bathroom window.

“Why the bathroom?” Arthur has asked.

“Better acoustics,” had been the reply.

His voice always felt better, more assured when he'd spent time with Merlin. He'd begun to notice that the longer he spent with Merlin the more his stammer seemed to disappear. Merlin had a theory about relaxing the body and the mind and it seemed that time with Merlin certainly did have that effect. Already he was counting down the hours to their next meeting, already prearranged for the following afternoon.

Arthur was just wondering if it would be terribly forward of him to give Merlin some sort of gift to celebrate their first month together when Morgana grabbed his arm.

“We need to talk, Arthur,” she hissed.

Arthur nodded. “My chambers?”

“It might be safer,” Morgana said, looking around.

“Morgana...”

“Shhh,” she said, holding tightly onto his arm and practically dragging Arthur into his chambers. She closed the door and Arthur could hear her click the lock.

“I'm sorry for this, Arthur, but I thought you should know.”

“Know what?” Arthur asked, feeling a little exasperated.

“I know you've had other things on your mind,” she began.

Arthur coughed. “Yes... w...well...”

“It's all right, Arthur. I don't blame you,” Morgana said. “I've been keeping an eye on your uncle Tristan whilst you've been... occupied.”

“Thank you,” Arthur said. Morgana always looked out for him, and he appreciated that.

“My maid Gwen saw him with Geoffrey. Gwen overheard him asking for your parents' marriage certificate.”

“Why w...would he... want that?” Arthur asked. His mother had been dead for as long as Arthur had been alive. His parents' marriage had ended with her death all those years ago.

“Before he married your mother, Uther was betrothed to my mother,” Morgana said.

“That ended before they... before they married. They got a decree to annul the... betrothal.”

“But he still fathered me,” Morgana pointed out. “Before he met your mother.”

“It's a... secret.” To anyone else the Lady Morgana was merely Uther's ward, but to Arthur she had always been his sister, even before he had known the truth of her parentage.

“An open secret. The court knows and Tristan knows. They all know it was a reckless mistake Uther made. However, it gives Tristan leverage. He could argue that the betrothal was validated. Which means it couldn’t be annulled.”

“W...which means I'd be...”

“Yes, Arthur, it would make you illegitimate,” Morgana said.

The very idea didn't sit well with Arthur. His entire life had been that of a Prince, of an heir to the throne. In his eyes he didn't simply stop being one just because of a piece of paper. “Tristan? He's not... got a claim.”

“He has, Arthur, through his mother's side. He's a great-great-grandson of King Aurelius. He's talking to courtiers, looking at the records. If there's a way to give himself a claim to the throne he'll find it.” Morgana looked worried.

“I shouldn't have left... all this to you,” Arthur said, putting a comforting arm around his sister.

She looked at him and he could see tears in her eyes. “What else are sisters for?”

“Thank you,” Arthur said.

“We're family,” Morgana replied. “Now, I think we should change before dinner, don't you?”

Arthur nodded. “Yes.”

Changing clothes gave Arthur some control, and put some formality back into the situation. He could hardly believe his own uncle would challenge him for the throne, but then he had never liked him. He had asked Morgana to keep a close eye on Tristan. Although if it came to it Arthur had no idea how he would tackle a challenge to his claim, or what the outcome would be.

******************************************************************************

Of course it was inevitable Merlin picked up on Arthur's discomfort during their next meeting. He couldn't go more than five minutes these days without touching Arthur. Merlin had never been one to pay any attention to barriers of propriety and now that was even less the case.

“Your shoulders are tense,” Merlin said, working his hands to loosen them.

“I've had a lot to... think about,” Arthur replied, arching into Merlin's impromptu massage.

“Such as?” Merlin asked.

“My uncle,” Arthur replied.

“Ah, Uncle Tristan who covets your throne.”

Arthur dislodged Merlin's hands as he leaned forward. “How do you know about that?” he asked, genuinely surprised.

Merlin came and sat down in the chair opposite. “The rumours of your uncle wanting to mutiny are all over the government,” Merlin said. “And Gwaine and Lancelot like to gossip.”

“Firstly, Merlin, it is not a... mutiny, and why do your friends... know more than me?”

Merlin reached out to lightly touch Arthur's hand. “Because the person who is plotted against is always the last to know. I mean look at Shakespeare.”

“In Hamlet the uncle knew Hamlet... was trying to kill him,” Arthur said.

“So you're not completely uneducated then?” Merlin asked with a grin.

“This isn't a... play.” It did seem like something that could be concocted for dramatic effect, Arthur thought. Except the reality of the situation was all too real.

“No,” Merlin said, looking serious. “It isn't. You don't get on with your uncle.”

“Does anyone?” Arthur asked. He looked at one of the portraits of his mother adorning the wall. “I never knew if my mother... loved him. He didn’t come and visit much. He came... for Christmas and he and my... father had meetings.”

“Did he ever play with you?”

“Once,” Arthur said. “He tried to.. .teach me chess. I was... six and I... couldn't remember how all the... pieces moved.” Arthur pictured the memory clearly.

“What happened?”

“He... laughed. He said I was... useless... that I would never... make a decent king. I... cried and he...he just sat and... laughed.”

“What about your father?”

“He saw me cry and... said I was... weak... that I should have learnt...” Arthur could feel tears welling up again, as if he was back in the room, as his six year old self. “F...father got angry... pushed the pieces over... one of the... rooks hit my... knee. I had... a bruise there...”

Merlin got up and came over, using his hand to rub gentle circles on Arthur's back. “Parents' expectations are sometimes too high,” he said. “You are not weak and you are not a failure,” he said, leaning down. “You are the bravest man I know,” Merlin whispered.

“I don't... feel brave,” Arthur said.

“The truly brave people never do,” Merlin replied, gently kissing his cheek.

Arthur let Merlin give him comfort. He'd let Merlin see a vulnerable side of him, one he hadn't showed for years. When they reluctantly parted Arthur's heart felt lighter, and the ghost of a six year old child with a bruised knee finally felt ready to move on.

*****************************************************************************

Three months passed and the King's health had begun to worsen. Merlin knew it was hard on Arthur, no matter how much he tried to hide it. They weren't able to meet every day and Merlin understood why. Arthur had a great many responsibilities. He worried about Arthur though. He couldn't help it.

At least Arthur had reassured him he was keeping up with his exercises.

Every morning Merlin waited for the newspaper to see what the latest news on the king was. At the kitchen table Lancelot and Gwaine were amused by Merlin jumping up as soon as he heard the newspaper come through the letterbox.

“It's quicker than having a dog waiting by the letterbox,” Gwaine said, taking a gulp of tea from his mug.

“I'm not that bad,” Merlin said, scanning the front page.

“I'm sure Prince Arthur would find some way of letting you know if there was any news,” Lancelot said.

Merlin couldn’t see anything relating to the king, so he sighed in relief and sat back down, moving on to scan the other pages, just in case. “He's the Crown Prince, Lancelot, he has responsibilities. He can't just drop them to tell me any news.”

“If Gwen hears anything I'm sure she'll let you know,” Lancelot added.

“He'll let you know,” Gwaine said. “Even if he is pompous, arrogant Royalty.”

“Thanks, Gwaine,” Merlin said. “I'll tell Arthur you're starting to like him.”

“He might make a half decent king,” Gwaine replied, and went back to tucking into his scrambled eggs.

*****************************************************************************

Two more days passed and Merlin waited anxiously for news. The headlines all reported on the king's ailing health, with several statements from Lord Tristan, Merlin had noticed. There was a brief statement from Arthur, but it was clearly nothing Arthur had written himself. It made Merlin a little bit angry to see Arthur's autonomy limited at such an emotional time.

That night Merlin was awake in bed. He had heard the clock in the living room strike eleven some time ago but he was having some trouble getting to sleep. He glanced out of the window and mourned the fact he could see so few stars. Out there, on the other side of the city, Arthur would be in the palace, no doubt waiting for news.

He was wondering if he could find some discreet way of contacting Arthur, when he heard a knock on the door. He came out of his bedroom to find that Gwaine had turned the landing light on. Lancelot appeared from his bedroom.

“Who is it?” he asked.

“We don't know,” Merlin replied and he made his way downstairs. Once he reached the bottom he turned on the hall light. He could see a shadowy figure through the glass of the door. He waited until Gwaine and Lancelot had joined him before he unlocked the door, took off the catch and slowly opened it.

“Hello?”

The man at the door wore a Telegram Delivery Agent's uniform. “Mr Emerson?

“Yes?”

“This is for you,” the man said, handing over a small piece of paper.

“Thank you,” Merlin said.

The man tipped his hat and set off into the night.

Merlin's fingers trembled a little. He'd never had a telegram, and certainly not at such a late hour before. He carefully opened the envelope and took out the message inside. He had to read it a few times to get the information out of it. It was suitably cryptic.

IT IS TIME.

“What does it say?” Gwaine asked, risking a lean over to peek.

“King Uther's dead,” Merlin said, going to sit down on the bottom of stair. “Arthur's king.”

There was nothing either Lancelot or Gwaine could say.

****************************************************************************

Arthur was by his father's bedside looking down at his father's peaceful countenance. He looked so much more human in death than he had ever been in life. It was hard to believe that earlier that afternoon he had rallied, sitting up in bed and talking, but then just before dinner he'd fallen asleep and hadn't woken up.

“He had a heart attack in his sleep,” Gaius had said. “I doubt he felt anything.”

There was some comfort in the physician's words but Arthur hadn't even said goodbye to his father. Their last meeting he had promised to talk with him about the results of the maiden voyage of the HMSA Wyvern the next morning, now the report was in a strange kind of limbo, as Arthur himself was.

Arthur reached out and touched his father's hand. It was pale and cool to the touch, devoid of life. Yet he just seemed to be sleeping, only the stillness of his chest revealed the fact he would never wake. Arthur sniffed, determined not to cry. He was sure his father would know if he did.

Morgana entered the room. She was pale and her eyes red from crying. She'd been with the nurse when they’d discovered the king's death, and it weighed heavily on her. Arthur beckoned her to sit next to him and he embraced his sister, letting her cry into his shoulder.

Arthur wished he could let his tears flow so freely.

The death was to be announced in the morning papers. “He... timed it... w...well, didn't he?” Arthur said. “Plenty of time for... for the newspapers to print their... obituary.”

Morgana sniffed, taking a handkerchief Arthur offered. She dabbed her eyes. “I suppose he'd be happy about that. Did you tell anyone?”

Arthur knew who Morgana meant. “Gaius sent a... telegram for me,” Arthur replied.

He could do with Merlin now, Merlin always knew what to say, always seemed to know how Arthur felt and the best way to make him feel better. He needed that support at the moment, now his world had been turned upside down. In a matter of hours the course of his life had changed, turned onto a course that had already been set long ago at Arthur's birth.

“Long live the king,” Arthur murmured.

Morgana raised his hand to her lips and kissed the ring Arthur wore. “Long live the king.”

******************************************************************************

It was five days before Arthur had the chance to see Merlin. The funeral arrangements took up much of his time. Oddly Uncle Tristan seemed happy enough to delegate the task to Arthur, instead he held court with the press, detailing the last months of the King's life. King Uther was to lie in state for a week. It had been four days and the lines of people queuing for one last glimpse of their king had not abated at all.

Luckily for Arthur the funeral had been mostly arranged and planned out already. His father had made sure of it years before he'd even been taken ill. He had listed those who should be present and who should conduct it. Poignantly Arthur was given a few words to say.

“I c...can't...” he said to Merlin. “To... speak about him... in front...”

Merlin rubbed his shoulders and soothed him. “Arthur, you can do this. Prove to your father that you are a worthy successor.”

“My father’s dead,” Arthur said.

“Not to you he isn't,” Merlin replied. “One day, Arthur, you are going to know what a great king you are, but until then I know you're going to judge yourself by your father.”

“He was a great... k...king. A great... man.”

“He just didn’t know how to be father,” Merlin said.

Had Merlin said such a thing months ago Arthur probably would have argued with him, raised his voice, thrown Merlin out. However, his father's death had brought perspective into his life. Now Arthur no longer had to live in fear of him. “He was my father,” Arthur said. “He loved me.”

“Oh, of course he did,” Merlin said. “It doesn't mean he was perfect.”

“I'm not... p...perfect.”

“I think you'd make a very boring king if you were.” Merlin leaned down and gave Arthur a hug. “The best kings show they are as human as the rest of us and strive to overcome their weaknesses all the same.”

Arthur leaned against Merlin. He felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. His father's shadow still loomed long but it seemed as if it was perhaps a little shorter.

“I love you,” Arthur whispered, scared to say the words, not because he couldn't say them, but because he wasn't sure Merlin would want to hear them.

“I love you too,” Merlin replied.

Four days later Arthur held in his hand the small piece of paper onto which was typed but a couple of sentences. He stared out at the gathered crowd, heads of state from all over the world. Except from Mercia who hadn't been invited as their military and naval escalation continued. Here Arthur was among men, kings, who were now his peers; King Olaf, King Alined and others all stood before him waiting for the first words Arthur would speak publicly to his people as King.

Somewhere out there too was Merlin, in the depths of the crowd, but Arthur knew he would be listening.

“Honoured ladies and gentlemen,” Arthur began, taking a breath, looking up at them all. “Today we celebrate the life of a great man and,” another pause to get ready for the next bit, “a great king.” Arthur breathed. “Please join me in paying,” a quick breath, “our respects,” a slight pause, “to my father.” He paused and took a breath, looking down and then back up. “May he live on,” a breath, “among us.” Another pause. “Long Live K..king Uther.”

Arthur stumbled a little at the end but managed to gloss over his mistake. No-one seemed to notice.

****************************************************************************

Merlin stood in the empty cathedral and marvelled at its size. The last time he had been here it had been a solemn occasion and the place had been filled with people. It was quite a contrast to see it now; the bare stone and tiled floor.

“It looks a lot bigger empty,” he said, a little too loudly as his voice echoed in the cavernous chamber.

“Yes, Merlin, it would be,” Arthur replied, as he began to pace up and down on the red carpet that had been laid for his coronation.

“Arthur, calm down, take a deep breath, and relax,” Merlin said.

“I'm being... crowned tomorrow, Merlin,” Arthur said, he shuffled a little on his feet but he did at least keep still.

“And you only have to say a few lines. You said more than that at your father's funeral. You can do this.” Merlin went to stand in front of the coronation chair. “Why don't you take a seat?”

Arthur came over to the chair, looking at it as if it was a loaded gun.

“It's just a chair, Arthur.”

“It's not... just a chair! It's the chair Albion's kings have been crowned on for hundreds of years.”

Rolling his eyes Merlin came and sat down on it. “It's not very comfortable,” he said. The chair was made of wood and was hard to sit on. It also hadn't been very ergonomically designed as it made Merlin’s back ache.

“Get out of that chair, Merlin!” Arthur said, raising his voice. It echoed, without any stammer, around them.

Merlin slowly got up and offered the seat Arthur. “All right, but someone has to sit on it.”

Arthur almost scowled as he turned to sit on the chair. Then he did begin to scowl. Merlin looked down the cathedral and saw a well dressed man in a black suit making his way toward them. He looked important, official, and he had the bearing of a powerful man.

“My uncle,” Arthur said, walking down the steps to meet him.

“Is there a problem, Arthur?” Lord Tristan enquired, looking behind Arthur at Merlin.

Merlin felt rather uncomfortable. Lord Tristan was more intimidating than he'd thought. His gaze seemed to see straight through Arthur and right at Merlin. It felt as if Merlin was a specimen under a microscope, from the way Tristan was looking at him he would probably consider Merlin to be a germ.

“There's no... problem, Uncle,” Arthur said

“Who is this, Arthur?” Tristan asked, as he walked up the steps and past Arthur toward Merlin. His gaze never wavered.

Arthur came to stand next to Merlin. Positioning himself slightly in front, Merlin noticed. “Uncle, this... is Merlin, he's an... English teacher.”

“An English teacher? And what use would an English teacher be?” Tristan asked. Merlin felt almost like a spot of dirt on Tristan's shoe.

“He's also a... speech therapist,”Arthur said.

Tristan smiled but it wasn't especially welcoming. “Is he now?”

Ignoring his nerves, Merlin held out his hand to Tristan. “Pleased to meet you, Sir,” he smiled, he'd taken part in enough amateur theatre to be able to act a little.

“And are you helping our esteemed king learn his lines?” Tristan asked, shaking Merlin's hand.

“Arthur already knows them. I'm just here to give him tips on the theatrical nature of the ceremony,” Merlin explained. “You'd be surprised how useful the techniques of speaking Shakespearean soliloquies are in a situation like this.”

For a moment Tristan's mask slipped but it was just a second before he regained his composure and released Merlin's hand. “Really? I look forward to seeing the results.”

“It was good of you... to come... Uncle,” Arthur said.

“I just wanted to make sure everything was in order,” Tristan replied, looking around. “If you'll excuse me I need a word with Archbishop Kilgharrah.”

Merlin watched as Tristan walked off, his footsteps muffled on the carpet. “Whose coronation does he think this is?” Merlin said, keeping his voice low, knowing how sound echoed in the place.

“My uncle wants... his own coronation,” Arthur said, going back to the chair and touching the top.

“This is your coronation, Arthur, your time.”

Arthur looked sceptical.

“Sit on the chair and we'll go through your lines,” Merlin said.

Reluctantly Arthur sat down in the chair. “I w...wish he didn't know about you,” Arthur mumbled as he squirmed in the uncomfortable seat.

“Don’t squirm during the ceremony,” Merlin said. “Knowing your uncle he would have found out anyway.”

“I don’t like it.”

“I don’t either, but we can worry about your uncle after we’ve rehearsed this again.”

“Merlin...”

Merlin leaned down. “I'm going to be the lover of a great king, remember?”

Arthur gulped.

Merlin stood up and smiled. “And the first step to being a great king is to rehearse and be ready for when the old dragon places the crown on your head.”

“Archbishop Kilgharrah isn't... that bad,” Arthur said, through a smile.

With a theatrical flourish Merlin ran up to the top of one of the boxes where the VIPs would be sitting. “Pretend I'm the Ambassador of somewhere important,” Merlin said, waving the paper on which the order of service was written. “Now let's see. Is your Majesty willing to take the oath?”

“I am willing,” Arthur said, giving the correct response.

“Will you govern your people of Albion and her Empire according to their laws, lands and customs?”

“I solemnly promise to do so,” Arthur said, more quietly than his first response.

“I can’t hear you!” Merlin called.

Arthur repeated the response, louder now. “I solemnly promise to do so.”

Merlin coughed. “And will you to your power cause law and justice in mercy to be executed in all your judgements?”

“I will,” Arthur said, quite loudly.

Merlin came down the stairs. “Now there's the bit about upholding the old religion and then you say...”

“Upon the things which I have here before,” Arthur paused. “promised, I swear I will perform and keep, so help me gods.”

“And that's it,” Merlin said, coming to stand in front of Arthur. “The archbishop places the crown on your head,” Merlin pretended to do so, which drew a smile from Arthur. “And you're King Arthur.”

“You think I can do this?”

Merlin leaned down and kissed Arthur's lips. “I know you can, Your Majesty.”

The next day Arthur proved it.

*****************************************************************************

Three days after Arthur's coronation the inevitable happened. Mercia invaded the Western Isles in a direct act of war. Arthur was sitting at his desk reviewing his first reports as king when the news came through. The whole palace erupted in chaos.

“You must make an announcement,” Geoffrey said, as they walked through the hallways crowded with governmental aides. “As soon as possible. The people are restless and the rumours are spreading.”

“W...what about our forces?” Arthur asked. He had barely begun to read the reports on where the army and navy were currently stationed.

“The HMSA Wyvern is in the area and the army have been readied for months” Geoffrey said. “We expected this, as you know, Sir.”

“I know,” Arthur said.

Geoffrey handed Arthur a piece of paper. “We have a speech prepared. You're live on the radio in an hour.”

Arthur took it and stared at the words. He had just an hour to read over them, understand them and work them into his brain. He felt he had little chance. “I'll be... ready,” he said. Already he could feel his chest tighten at the prospect of making a speech with such little preparation time.

As soon as Geoffrey had departed Arthur headed down to the garage, the paper clutched in his hand. Along the way he had to dodge several ministers eager for a quick word but he waved them on. He didn't have time to talk to them.

Lower down he saw the cables being run to and from the equipment needed to put on a live radio broadcast. His heart was beating in his ears. Every thud of a cable seemed to reverberate. Luckily, the technicians were too busy to notice as they hastily assembled their equipment.

When Arthur reached the garage he found his driver, Percival, shining the bonnet of the Royal car. He was concentrated on his task and Arthur felt almost impolite when he coughed to get the man's attention.

“Sir?” Percival asked, standing up straight, his arm held awkwardly like a cadet not sure if he should salute.

“I need you to go... and find Merlin... and bring him back here,” Arthur said. “As... soon as you can.”

Without asking for any further explanation Percival got into the car, still clutching his cleaning rag in his hand.

Arthur hoped he would be in time.

As he walked back through the palace he tried to block out the sounds of the chaos. He looked instead at the paper with the speech on it. It had been typed up hastily, some of the letters were slightly smudged and Arthur was glad that at least he wasn't the only one taken by surprise.

“Are you all right, Arthur?” came the familiar, and dreaded, voice of his uncle.

“Yes, Uncle. Just... reading.”

Tristan glanced down at the paper. “Ah yes, terrible news. I've been speaking to Geoffrey to personally offer my support during this difficult time. So soon into your reign too.”

“I am sure... we can have a... successful outcome.” Arthur was not going to let his nerves show to his uncle, though he feared his stammer was doing the job for him. Luckily he was saved by Morgana's arrival.

“Ah, Arthur, there you are. I've been looking everywhere for you. Gaius needs to speak to you urgently,” she said, tugging a little at his arm as if to reinforce her words.

“I must go. Thank you for your... support, Uncle,” Arthur said, turning to go with Morgana.

“It's always there for you,” Tristan called.

As Morgana led him away Arthur whispered to her. “What does Gaius need to see me about?”

“He doesn't,” Morgana said. “I thought you should wait for Merlin in your office. I'll get him through the crowds without anyone noticing.”

“How did you know I'd... sent for Merlin?” Arthur asked.

“A sister has insights,” Morgana replied. “Your first speech with no time to prepare? Who else are you going to send for?”

Arthur smiled as they went into his office. “Thank you.”

“Thank me by making a great speech that stops Tristan from making comments about your fitness to rule.”

“I'll try,” Arthur replied.

Morgana nodded and left him sitting in the chair that had once been his father's. The atmosphere in his office wasn't helping. The presence of his father was everywhere; in the furniture, the pictures, the photographs, and the memories Arthur had of coming into the room when he was young, usually to be berated for some little thing or other.

Putting those thoughts out of his mind he placed the speech on his desk and waited.

*****************************************************************************

Across the city Merlin was in his rooms finishing up writing some notes on Freya's case. The shy girl was really beginning to do well. Her parents had offered to pay for treatment but, knowing they couldn't afford it, Merlin had turned them down. She wasn't the only patient he saw for free. One of those he saw for free wasn't even a patient at all anymore.

In a way Merlin missed Arthur's visits to his rooms. He missed seeing Arthur so out of place amongst the shabby furniture and the look on his face as he was asked to lie down, or roll around the floor. That had been the Arthur he had fallen in love with and, though he was completely in love with the Arthur he knew now, he couldn't help but miss that.

Jolting him out of his thoughts was the sound of the telephone brining. Not an unusual occurrence but it happened less often than Merlin would have liked. Calls meant clients so he was never annoyed when it rang.

“Hello, Merlin Emerson, speech therapist.”

“Merlin, thank gods you’re there.”

Merlin recognised the voice at once. “Gwaine? Why are you calling?”

“Mercia has invaded the Western Isles. We're at war, and you know what that means.”

“What?” Merlin knew war meant a lot of things but he was confused.

“Your Arthur is going to have to make a speech.”

Immediately Merlin sat up in his chair. “When?”

Gwaine lowered his voice. “Word here is the king is due to make a speech within the hour.”

“I need to be with him.”

“Lancelot is ready to come and pick you up.”

Merlin was about to tell Lancelot to come as soon as he could when he heard a car engine outside. He recognised the croon of the engine as he would the voice of a patient. It was Arthur’s car, few others could even afford to own a car that would make such a noise.

“Hold on,” Merlin said, leaving the phone and going over to the window. The view outside confirmed what he had thought. He raced back over to the desk and picked up the phone again. “Arthur's car has just pulled up outside. I'll talk to you later,” he said.

“Good luck, Merlin,” Gwaine replied.

Merlin began to sort out his papers, putting them in files, and making sure he left nothing out that was confidential. He'd just closed the file when there was a knock on his door. Merlin grabbed his coat before he opened it.

He was surprised to see Arthur's driver standing in front of him, he had half been expecting Arthur himself. He'd got to know the man quite well. Well enough that he at least remembered his name. “Percival?”

“The king requests your presence immediately,” Percival said.

That was all it took for Merlin to fling on his coat, go out into the hall and shut the door behind him.

“Is this about the war with Mercia?” Merlin asked as they made their way to the lift.

“The palace is in uproar.”

Merlin squeezed into the lift beside Percival. Percival was not a small man and it was a tight squeeze. “How soon can we be there?”

“Ten minutes. Don't worry,” Percival smiled as the lift started to move.

Percival was as good as his word. As they drove through the streets they seemed oddly deserted. Obviously word had got out that the King was due to make a formal announcement. Merlin found himself trying not to think about the millions of people who would likely be crowding around their wireless sets in the upcoming hour.

As they pulled up in the garage of the palace the Lady Morgana was waiting. “Arthur needs you,” was all she said.

“That's what I'm here for,” Merlin replied, and he followed her out of the garage and into the palace itself.

Percival hadn't been exaggerating when he's said the place was in uproar. There were masses of people everywhere. Merlin was quite grateful his own passage through the palace went relatively unnoticed as Morgana and he weaved in between the people and cables.

They stopped outside a grand looking door. Merlin had no idea where they were. All the corridors looked the same.

“He's in there,” Morgana said, placing her hand on the door knob. “Good luck,” she added, and opened the door.

****************************************************************************

Arthur was on his feet as soon as he heard the door open. The sight of Merlin flooded him with a sense of relief. The room no longer seemed as intimidating, and his speech no longer seemed like an impossible task. Arthur practically threw his arms around Merlin's neck and embraced him.

“Thank gods you're here, Merlin,” he said.

Slowly Arthur released him. “Arthur, are you all right?” Merlin asked, cupping Arthur's cheek.

Arthur shook his head and went over to the desk. “I have to give this... speech,” he said, picking up the piece of paper and glancing up at the clock, “ in... thirty five minutes. And I’ve not even tried to... to say it.”

Merlin was rubbing his back, soothing him gently. “It's okay, Arthur. Just stay calm and I'll see what we can do with this.”

Nodding, Arthur handed over the speech. Merlin plucked a pencil from his desk and began the process of editing it. Arthur watched the clock carefully, trying to will the minute hand to be still. It moved, but not so quickly as to send Arthur into a panic.

“Here,” Merlin said. “It's not perfect but I think it will do.”

Arthur looked at Merlin's little pencil scrawls, already running the pauses through his mind. “I'm not sure I can... do this,” Arthur said. Feeling the words stick in his throat before he'd even spoken them.

“Don't rush it,” Merlin said. “One word at a time. Breathe, pause and you'll be fine.”

Arthur glanced up at the clock and saw the minute hand now racing toward the moment where he would have to speak, or try to. “I need you... there,” Arthur said. “In the room.”

“Arthur, you know people are going to ask questions.”

“Let them... ask,” Arthur replied.

“All right, now, read it out and bounce into the words.”

Arthur nodded and began to read. “In this... grave hour...”

“Breathe, pause,” Merlin said.

“I speak to you... the peoples of Albion... and her... Empire...” Arthur could feel himself unable to slow down. The air wouldn't come and his throat felt as if it was closing up.

Merlin was rubbing his back. “You can do this, Arthur, just relax. One word at a time.”

After several attempts Arthur had made it haltingly to the end of his speech. He had stumbled over several sections, but Merlin was not able to edit out a lot of the harder to form sounds. You really couldn't say war without a 'w'. It was a struggle and Arthur felt powerless as the clock moved toward the hour.

There was a knock on the door. “Arthur, it's time,” Morgana said, poking her head around the door.

Looking at Merlin Arthur stepped out. “Stay with me,” he whispered to Merlin as he clutched the speech tightly.

Morgana led them both through the corridors and, as people looked at him, Arthur felt like a condemned man. Here were the faces of his people, all expecting their king, their leader, to offer up a great speech, to relay important news through the Empire. It was a sobering thought and Arthur hoped the ink wouldn't smudge as his palms began to sweat.

He caught sight of Leon among the many people milling around. It didn't take long for Leon to notice him. “Your highness,” he said, walking over to keep up with Arthur.

“Good to... see you, Leon,” Arthur said.

“We're behind you, Sir,” Leon said. “Good luck.”

There was a brief glance as Leon seemed to notice, and then recognise, Merlin.

“Thank you,” Arthur said. “I hope to... talk to you later.”

Leon nodded and went off to take his place among the other military representatives.

After passing through rooms full of dignitaries they came to a small room at the back of the palace that had been rigged up for the broadcast with a microphone and drapes to muffle any outside noise. It looked like a small cell, or a trap, as far as Arthur was concerned.

“Who is this?” Geoffrey asked, catching sight of Merlin.

“Merlin, my... speech therapist,” Arthur replied. “He'll be with me... when I read my speech.”

Geoffrey looked as if he was about to make some sort of objection but it was Gaius who spoke first. “I see no reason not to allow the King to have whomever he chooses with him in the room,” he said.

Arthur gave Geoffrey his most defiant kingly stare.

“Of course, yes, he is welcome.”

“Thank you,” Arthur said, and he led the way into the room.

Merlin softly closed the door behind them as Arthur laid out the speech on the lectern in front of the microphone.

“Forget about them,” Merlin said. “Just say it to me.”

Arthur nodded and then felt himself freeze as the light began to blink at him, taunting him. Merlin pulled his jacket off and covered the light. Arthur couldn't see it but Merlin was keeping an eye on it, peeking under the jacket. Without the light to distract him Arthur began to relax a little. He took a few deep breaths and evened out his breathing.

As he looked up Merlin began to count down with his fingers. Three, two, one, and then he pointed at Arthur, mouthing the words 'speak'.

For a moment Arthur didn't know how to speak. His tongue felt as if it wasn’t his own, and his throat felt tight. He noticed Merlin pointing at himself. All he had to do was say it to Merlin. The microphone was immaterial. He looked Merlin straight in the eye before looking down at the words. Closing his eyes for a moment Arthur pictured Merlin, and when he opened them he began to speak.

“In this grave hour... ” he paused, testing out the next sounds in his head before he spoke them. “I speak to you,” brief pause, “the peoples of Albion and her Empire this message.” Now he could pause more naturally and take a breath. “Spoken with the same depth...” pause before the 'f' sounds, “of feeling for each one of you,” take a breath, “as if I were able to speak to you in person.” Another natural pause and Arthur looked up to see Merlin smiling. “I must tell you...” pause “the solemn news,” another pause to bounce off into the 'w's sounds. “that we are at w...war.” Arthur paused, aware he had rushed the words a little. “We have tried to find...” he took a breath. “a peaceful way,” another pause following the 'w ', “out of the differences between ourselves and our...” pause for emphasis “enemies,” another pause and a quick breath. “But we have been forced into a conflict,” another pause, “ for we are called to meet the challenge of a principle...” quick pause, “that might is right.” Another longer pause and Arthur began to find his rhythm. Merlin was still smiling. “We have a duty to protect those...” pause, “weaker than us,” another beat, “and it is unthinkable that we should refuse... ” quick pause, “to meet the challenge.” Merlin was moving his finger about, reminding Arthur not to lose his rhythm. “This is the high purpose that means I now call...” pause to bounce into the next bit “my... people to stand hard and firm and united,” pause and a quick breath “in this time of trial.” Another pause and now Arthur could see the end. “The task will be hard...” pause, “and there may be dark days...” quick pause, “ahead,” Arthur bounced onto his next bit “but we can only do the right,” pause and a breath, “as we see the right.” A natural pause and Merlin gave him a thumbs up. “If one and all keep resolutely faithful to it..” pause, “then with the gods' help” one last pause before the final emphasis, “we shall... prevail.”

With the words out Arthur relaxed, and tried not to be too loud with his sigh of relief. Merlin removed his jacket with a flourish and they waited until the red light blinked off. Once it had done so Arthur felt himself trembling a little. His ordeal was over, for the moment.

Merlin was quick to hug him. “You did it,” he said. “I knew you would.”

“Thanks to you,” Arthur replied.

As they stepped out Arthur was met by applause and congratulations.

“Wonderful speech, Sir,” Geoffrey was saying. “I was on the edge of my seat.”

“Your father would be proud,” Gaius added.

“Well done, Sir,” Leon said.

Throughout all the handshakes and congratulations Arthur kept his eye on Merlin. He was standing awkwardly, his gaze fixed on Arthur. It didn't matter what anyone else thought of his speech. Merlin was looking proud and that told Arthur he'd done a good job.

After a quick photo session of Arthur pretending to read his speech at his desk Arthur had to do the balcony moment. Morgana was waiting for him. As a member of the Royal family she too was there to show herself to the people.

“You did well, Arthur,” she whispered. “We knew you would.”

“Thank you,” Arthur replied. Taking a deep breath he stepped out onto the balcony, Morgana holding back a little, as if this moment was solely for Arthur. He was met by roaring cheering.

He stood on the palace balcony looking down at crowds of people who had gathered in front of Camelot's gates. As he waved to them Merlin was standing just out of view by the window. Arthur one day hoped that he could bring Merlin with him onto the balcony and still be met by cheering.

With the sounds of a grateful people ringing in his ears, Arthur retired to his office with Merlin. Luckily everyone was so pleased with the results of his speech that they didn't question Arthur's need for a bit of space, or his need to have Merlin with him. They were able to go there mostly unnoticed.

Once they were in his office Merlin hugged him again. Arthur let himself relax into their embrace, letting Merlin soothe the tension out of him now the ordeal was over.

“I knew you could do it,” Merlin whispered. He pulled back. “And did you see all those people out there?”

“Yes, Merlin, I did. I stood in front of them.”

“Sorry,” Merlin said, pursing his lips.

“Don't be,” Arthur whispered, and he pressed his lips to Merlin's. It was nothing more than a chaste kiss but it gave Arthur a thrill to be able to kiss Merlin in the palace. The speech had been a success. Merlin deserved it.

He was just wondering about perhaps making the kiss a little less chaste when a cough from the doorway caused Arthur to practically jump out of Merlin's arms.

“I hope I'm not interrupting.” Lord Tristan said, as he stood by the door. “I just wanted to congratulate you on a great speech, Arthur.”

“Thank you... Uncle,” Arthur said, standing back from Merlin.

“I'll leave you to your... celebrations,” Tristan said, smiling in the same way Arthur had seen him do before he took apart a political opponent.

Arthur watched with a mixture of anger and fear. He made sure Tristan had completely closed the door. He didn't even breathe until he could hear his uncle's footsteps going off down the hall.

“He knows,” Arthur said, as he began pacing the floor, glancing anxiously at Merlin. “My uncle knows about us.”

“You don't know what he saw,” Merlin said, putting a hand on Arthur's shoulder.

Arthur shrugged it off. He didn't deserve any sympathy, not from Merlin, not when he'd stupidly put Merlin in danger.

“He saw enough,” Arthur said. “He knows what you... mean to me. You don't... know him, Merlin. I don't want you... hurt.”

Now Merlin placed two hands on Arthur's shoulders. This time Arthur, despite his guilt, didn't shrug them off. He was adept at the hints Merlin was giving him and the hint now was that Merlin wanted to comfort him.

“It's you I'm worried about,” Merlin said. “It's your throne he's after.”

“He won't... get it,” Arthur said. “And if he goes after you... he will... regret it.”

Merlin kissed his cheek. “You've already got one war to fight, Arthur. Don't let him force you into another.”

“Do you not think I'll win?”

“Of course you will but you need to be strong for your people, not your uncle.”

Arthur understood the sentiment. He had seen his father under strain during the wars that had taken place under his reign. He had seen the toll war could have on a king, but more importantly he had seen the toll on his family life, and the ones he loved. “I'm strong for you,” Arthur said, quietly.

There was a scuffling movement outside the door. “I should go,” Merlin said, quietly. “Promise me you'll call me if you need me, Arthur?”

Arthur nodded. “Of course. Can't do this... without you.”

Merlin smiled. “We'll get through this” he said.

Arthur wished he shared his optimism. He didn't even dare kiss Merlin goodbye. They had to settle for a quick squeeze of each other's hands and a half embrace. It was less than Merlin deserved and Arthur cursed his uncle for making it so.

*****************************************************************************

When he got back to the house, Merlin was in relatively high spirits. He was trying to put the incident with Tristan out of his mind. He was not going to let Arthur be distracted by his uncle's machinations. He had no doubt Lord Du Bois was up to something but Albion had just declared war and Arthur had bigger things to worry about.

Merlin went into the kitchen to find Lancelot and Gwaine talking about something. He wasn't able to catch any of the conversation before they saw him in the doorway.

“What did you think?” Merlin asked. “Of Arthur's speech,” he added, in case there was any doubt.

“The King spoke very well,” Lancelot said.

“And we all know that's down to you,” Gwaine added.

“It's not just me. Arthur is determined, devoted. His sense of duty to his people...”

“Spoken like a man in love,” Lancelot said, interrupting.

“That obvious?”

Gwaine and Lancelot both nodded.

Pulling the other chair out from the table Merlin sat down. “The only problem is Lord Tristan knows.”

“Lord Tristan Du Bois knows you're the king's lover?” Gwaine asked.

The use of lover was unusually poetic from Gwaine and Merlin looked at him a little surprised.

“Lover?” Merlin asked.

“You're not married yet,” Gwaine muttered.

“And we might never be if Arthur's uncle has his way.”

“Arthur is the king,” Lancelot said. “Surely he can't...”

“He can,” Gwaine said.

Merlin tapped the kitchen table. “Arthur has other things to worry about. We're at war.”

“We noticed,” Gwaine said, looking down at Merlin's tapping fingers.

“It will be all right, Merlin,” Lancelot said.

Aware his friends were still looking at his fingers Merlin stopped. “Yeah it will be,” he said. “It will be fine.”

****************************************************************************

Sitting down at his desk, Arthur was going over the latest reports from the front-line. The war was less than twenty four hours old but already it was getting bloody. There had been casualties on both sides, although Arthur was relieved that the Albion Navy had suffered fewer losses than its Mercian counterpart. For now the battle lines were being drawn out at sea, a ground assault would follow victory there.

As Arthur was signing a request for another two ships to join the Wyvern and the rest of the fleet, Geoffrey strode into his office with several aides at his side.

“Sir,” he said, holding out an official looking piece of paper.

Unsure as to what was going on Arthur took it. “What is this?” he asked, as he began to break the red wax seal. He had barely begun to comprehend what he was reading before Geoffrey spoke.

“You are officially summoned before members of the senior court. We have some concerns regarding your relationship with a Mr Merlin Emerson.”

“Merlin?” Arthur stood up, not wanting to confront a government minister whilst sitting down. “How did you...?”

“Your uncle brought the matter to our attention,” Geoffrey said. “As you can see everything is in order.”

“I am sure my uncle was...” Arthur paused. “Most helpful.”

“Sir, I suggest that you attend and prepare yourself to answer some very difficult questions,” Geoffrey said.

“I'll be ready,” Arthur replied.

Nodding, Geoffrey marched out of the office as quickly as he had entered, tailed by his aides and leaving Arthur to contemplate the document in his hands. The move had come as a surprise, mostly because of the timing. Arthur was the King leading his people through a war and his Uncle Tristan wanted to usurp him now?

As he held the paper it began to crease in his grip. Arthur marched out of his office with as much purpose as Geoffrey had done, and went to find his uncle.

He found his uncle in the drawing room, sitting in the armchair that had been Arthur's father's favourite when he was alive. He was drinking brandy and looking over what seemed to be official government documents which he'd spread across the settee in front of him, using it as makeshift desk.

Feeling his ire rise Arthur came to stand in front of his uncle. His anger made his throat feel constricted and his chest feel tight but he was not going to let the insult go. “What is the... meaning of... this?” he asked, holding up the summons.

Tristan leaned back in his chair and swirled his brandy in his glass. “I thought the government would be interested to discover their king was involved with another man.”

“And...why is... that?” Arthur asked.

“You should not be king,” Tristan said, simply. “I was trying to prove your parents' marriage was invalid, but this is a much better reason. King Arthur having an affair with a lowly commoner and not just any commoner, an English teacher who thinks he's a speech therapist.”

“Merlin is a... speech therapist,” Arthur ground out. He was not going to let his uncle insult Merlin.

“Not according to the Royal College of Physicians. He has no medical qualifications,” Tristan said, before holding up a letter he'd plucked from his pile of papers. “I checked.”

“He doesn't need... them.”

“Really? I wonder what the people would say if they found out you were involved with a quack.”

“Merlin... is not a... quack!”

“Yet he has no qualifications to speak of,” Tristan said, placing the letter back down.

“How dare you!” Arthur said. He had known his uncle was capable of anything but this was low, even for him.

“I can dare of course. A relationship between the two of you is ridiculous,” Tristan took a swig of his brandy.

“It's not forbidden by law.”

Tristan smirked. “Do you honestly think you can remain king and keep him?”

Arthur felt his nails digging into his palm. “He makes me a... better king.”

“Really? Perhaps you'll change your mind tomorrow. When the court convenes.”

“Why did you... c...call them? Now?”

Leaning back his uncle looked pleased. “I am perfectly within my rights to do so.”

“You can't do this... not now...” His uncle’s timing was possibly the worst part of his treasonous act.

“I have, Arthur. Perhaps if you hadn't been so busy with your little therapist boyfriend you might have realised how unsuitable you are.”

“There is no-one.... more unsuitable... than you.” Arthur said, glaring down at his uncle who seemed unconcerned.

“Listen to yourself. You can’t even speak properly. Proof your therapist hasn't worked.”

Arthur couldn't calm himself, but he did take a deep breath. “Merlin has done more for me... than... anyone else. He's worth a dozen courtiers.... and a hundred.... of you. I am not giving him up for... anyone.”

“And what about your throne?”

Glancing over at the mantelpiece Arthur could see a photograph of his father. “As long as there is breath in.... my body I will stop someone like you becoming.... k...king. I rule for the people not... over them.”

“We will see how you fare tomorrow,” Tristan said, not even bothering to look at Arthur but turning back to the documents he'd been reading.

“We shall,” Arthur replied, already walking to the door.

He wished he could have said something more, hit his uncle with one of the many hard objects cluttering the room, but he knew it wouldn't help him. Still, Arthur nursed his anger and resolved that he needed to speak to Merlin. Without caring who saw him leave Arthur decided to head to the garage.

As he stormed down the palace corridors Arthur bumped into his sister. He hadn't seen Morgana since after the balcony moment. He didn't actually stop, just muttered his apology for bumping into her and carried on.

Morgana, however, was not to be dissuaded and began to follow him.

“Arthur, where are you going?”

“I need to... speak to Merlin,” Arthur said, his fists still tightly curled up. “Immediately.”

“What's happened?”

“Uncle Tristan has called me... before the court tomorrow so they can... interrogate me about my relationship with Merlin.”

“He can't do that.”

“I've been issued with a decree of attendance Morgana,” Arthur replied, waving the dreaded edict toward her. “I don't have a choice.”

“He can't do this to you. And now? We're at war and he's trying to usurp the throne?”

“He's... selfish. That's all he is.”

“Don’t let him win.”

Arthur gritted his teeth. “I'm not going to.”

 

*****************************************************************************

There was nothing more relaxing than listening to a good band on the wireless, Merlin thought. For once even Gwaine was relaxing and enjoying the music of 'Nimueh and the Magic Band' as he tried his hand at a crossword. Lancelot was busy reading a book of poetry, no doubt in preparation for another love letter to Gwen. Merlin darned his socks and reflected on Arthur's success.

The peaceful quiet atmosphere was interrupted by a loud banging on their front door.

“Expecting anyone?” Gwaine asked.

Lancelot shook his head. “No, you?”

“I'm not either,” Merlin said, putting his socks down.

Gwaine put the newspaper down. “I'm not,” he said.

The three of them stood up and went to the door. Lancelot and Gwaine went first, almost jostling for position as to who opened the door, and Merlin let them, holding back a little. It was probably some sort of salesman, he thought.

As Gwaine beat Lancelot to the door and opened it, Merlin realised it wasn't a salesman.

“Arthur?”

“Your Highness,” Gwaine and Lancelot chorused.

“I need to speak to Merlin,” Arthur said, looking past the two men who had opened the door. In a move very unlike Arthur, he practically barged his way in.

Gwaine and Lancelot, taken aback, stood to one side and let Arthur past.

“It's urgent,” Arthur said to Merlin, holding up a piece of paper. “I've been... summoned in front of... the council.”

“I think I need to speak to Arthur alone,” Merlin said, over Arthur's shoulder.

Lancelot and Gwaine both nodded. “We'll leave you to it,” Gwaine said, and the two of them went upstairs.

Merlin took Arthur through into the kitchen. He could tell Arthur was agitated. He was clutching the paper so hard it looked as if it would be barely readable. Arthur's hands were fisted and he stalked around the kitchen like a cat looking for prey. He had never seen Arthur this angry before.

“Arthur, what happened?”

“Tristan, he's making a... play for the throne. My throne,” Arthur said, his cheeks flushed.

“Now? When we've just begun a war?”

Arthur threw his head back and gave a hollow laugh. “That's my uncle.”

“But he can't.”

“He wants to use our... relationship as... proof I'm unfit to rule.” The anger seemed to go out of Arthur as he slumped against the kitchen wall.

“Oh Arthur...” Merlin said, coming over to put an arm around Arthur. He led him to one of the kitchen chairs and helped him sit down.

“It's underhanded... dishonourable,” Arthur said, looking at the kitchen table.

“What are you going to do?” Merlin asked, taking the seat next to Arthur's.

Arthur looked up and made eye contact. “I'm not giving you up, Merlin. I... can't.”

“But Arthur you’re the king.”

“And if it comes down to you and the... throne... I'd choose you. I always will.”

There was such earnestness in Arthur's face. Not for the first time Merlin realised how much Arthur loved him. The love of a king though was a difficult thing. “Arthur, I don't...” Merlin paused. “You are a great king.”

“A king is only as great as the... people he loves,” Arthur said, placing his hand on Merlin’s. “I wouldn't... be here at all if it wasn't for you.”

Merlin smiled. “I don't want to be selfish. I want to tell you that the throne matters more than me and you should give me up but,” he paused. “I don't think I can any more, Arthur.”

“That doesn't make you a... bad person, Merlin. It makes you human.”

“Whatever you decide, Arthur, I'll still love you.”

“I know,” Arthur said, quietly. “That doesn’t make it... easier.”

Although Arthur had told Merlin he was happy to spend a night away from the palace, Merlin decided the last thing Lord Du Bois needed was more evidence on Arthur.

“I'm not having him suggest I'm keeping you from your duty,” Merlin said.

Arthur had seen the reasoning of that. Their kiss had had a slightly bittersweet tinge. Merlin hated to think that something as good as love could be the cause of so much strife.

“Do you want me there tomorrow?” Merlin asked.

“I need you there,” Arthur replied. “But it might give Tristan... ideas.”

“I'll stay away,” Merlin said. He understood what Arthur meant. No doubt Tristan would argue Merlin was a bad influence and if he were actually there it would reflect badly.

“As soon as it's... over. I'll come to you,” Arthur said. “My... mother's flat. I'll meet you there at lunchtime.”

Merlin nodded. “I'll be there.”

With another kiss Arthur bade farewell. As soon as the sound of his car had gone off into the distance, Gwaine and Lancelot came down the stairs.

“Is King Arthur in trouble?” Lancelot asked. “We heard voices.”

Lancelot was too noble to admit the two of them had eavesdropped.

“You were right about Lord Tristan Du Bois,” Merlin said. “He's summoned Arthur before the council over our relationship.”

“That sneaky bastard,” Gwaine said. “Trying to steal his nephew's throne in the middle of a bloody war.”

“I know,” Merlin said. “But Arthur's not going to let him.”

“What about your relationship?” Lancelot asked.

“Arthur's going to fight for it.”

Lancelot smiled. “Good. You deserve him to.”

Gwaine slapped Merlin on the back. “Come on, we'll get you a stiff drink.”

Merlin was glad of Gwaine's suggestion in the end, as the excess of whiskey at least helped him to sleep. He couldn't stop thinking about Arthur and what he would face in the morning. He found himself cursing Lord Du Bois. In the morning Arthur would be facing interrogation but he wouldn't be alone, not whilst Merlin had love in his heart. He might not be there physically but in every way that mattered he would be.

****************************************************************************

On the morning of the summons before the court Arthur ate little breakfast. He picked at his bacon and his eggs seemed a congealed mess by the time he had finished. He managed a few bites of toast but the honey felt as if it was sticking in his throat. His tea he drank cold and he drew no comfort from it.

Morgana was not allowed to accompany him to the council chambers but she hugged him before he left. It didn't help him feel any less like a condemned man. Still, he thanked her.

The journey to the council chambers was but a short walk away. Arthur felt conspicuous dressed in his uniform. It was a time of war and the King was head of the armed forces. He wore his naval uniform with pride. His medal ribbons stood out as a sea of colour. Proof that his actions were duty bound and honourable. He hoped that would be remembered.

He reached the council chambers in plenty of time, the grandeur of government all around him. His ancestors stared out from paintings, their beady eyes examining the latest successor to the throne. It was not the ghosts of the past that would deem him worthy, however, but the spirits of the present.

As the clock struck ten he was called into the chamber. The heavy oak doors were opened and Arthur stepped into a room steeped in history. Among the stone columns and around the table in front of him many decisions had been made. The very history of Albion had been echoed in the four walls around him.

The assembled council stood at the back of the long table used for council debates. Among them were Geoffrey and his uncle. There was one friendly face however; Gaius. The old physician had been made part of the council by Uther in recognition of loyal service. Arthur was grateful to see him. Gaius had always been fair in his judgements.

It was Geoffrey who brought the session to order as he read from a scroll, his copy of the summons Arthur had received. “King Arthur, you have been summoned before this chamber to face the accusation of Lord Tristan Du Bois that you are engaged in a love affair with a commoner.”

Arthur saw Geoffrey's mouth open for the next part of his speech but he ignored it. Arthur's throat felt loose, he felt confident. The only tightness in his chest was his heart beating. “I am.”

It took a moment for Geoffrey to recover his shock. “You do not deny the charge then?”

“To deny it,” Arthur paused. “Would dishonour myself, my feelings,” he paused again. “And Mr Merlin Emerson.”

Geoffrey scanned the scroll in front of him. “He is the man named in your uncle's disposition. You are involved with him?”

“I am.” Arthur nodded firmly.

“And you see nothing wrong with this?” Geoffrey still looked surprised.

“I see nothing,” Arthur carefully paused. “wrong with falling in love,” he let the word sink in, “with another person.”

“He has no pedigree, no standing at court. He is an outsider, an interloper. Do you deny this?”

Arthur felt himself stand up straighter. “The only accusation I... will deny is that which suggests Merlin is anything less than a good man.” Arthur took a breath. “He has supported me... through difficult times.

“When did this affair begin?”

“Our acquaintance,” Arthur corrected, refusing to acknowledge his relationship with Merlin as a mere affair, “began before my father's death.”

“And how did you meet?” Geoffrey asked.

Arthur could see the scribe taking everything down, his quill moving furiously.

“We met... when I requested Merlin to help me with my... speech.”

“He claims to be a speech therapist.”

“That is correct,” Arthur said, slowly. “He has helped me. I could not face you gentlemen today... without his help.” Arthur could feel the pressure and his speech was beginning to suffer but he refused to let it get to him.

“That remains to be seen. So you deny nothing?”

“Are you honourable gentlemen hoping I... will?” Arthur asked.

The court began to murmur amongst itself, as if it could hardly believe that Arthur was even admitting to any of this.

“This is a grave situation, Your Highness. Such a dilemma has not occurred in the hundreds of years this council has been in existence,” Geoffrey said.

Arthur looked at each of the members of the court in turn. “I see no dilemma here. “

Geoffrey coughed, as a teacher might cough in a classroom. “You believe that this Mr Emerson makes a suitable royal consort?”

“I believe he is more suitable than any man I have ever... met.”

Again for a moment Geoffrey appeared lost for words. “The council must deliberate the evidence before us.”

“Very well. I'll await your verdict,” Arthur said. “Am I free to... leave?” Arthur asked the question deliberately. Not even the council could dismiss a king and nor should they try.

“We have asked our questions,” Geoffrey replied. “You are free to leave.”

Arthur bowed and left, hearing the doors close loudly behind him.

For the next hour he waited under the gaze of his forbears. Sometimes he sat, resigned, other times he paced. He stared up at the newest portrait in the room; that of his father. What would he have thought of this? Of Merlin? Arthur had no real idea. He suspected his father wouldn’t approve but he needed no-one to approve of his feelings. Not anymore.

The clock read five past eleven by the time the council emerged. All walked past Arthur, their heads bowed, none of them even attempting to make eye contact. All except one. One member of the council stayed behind and stood next to Arthur.

“Gaius? What did they... say?” Arthur asked, his curiosity and nerves growing in equal measure.

“They support Tristan's claim. They believe Merlin is unfit as a Royal consort.”

Arthur shook his head as he began to pace again, his footsteps muffled on the thick carpet. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Arthur, to them it matters a great deal. Merlin is a foreigner and a man.”

“Avalon is not a.... foreign land. It is one of our colonies.” Avalon's laws were the same as Albion. Her people spoke the same language, there was no difference as far as Arthur was concerned.

“But it's not Albion. The counicl is old fashioned. Merlin doesn't have the right bloodlines. He was born illegitimate, his parents never married, and he cannot provide you with an heir.”

Arthur glanced at his father's portrait, remembering the man who had instilled in Arthur the importance of being an heir from a young age. Now that heir was having his throne removed from him by a man Uther had trusted. “There are other ways of... securing the... succession. If Morgana were to marry...”

“These are ifs,” Gaius said, gently interrupting. “The court only wishes to deal in proofs. At the moment they see Tristan as an alternative candidate.”

“He has... no right.”

“In law and by blood he does, Arthur,” Gaius said. “He claims royal blood. He's also got most of the council, the significant members of the government, to listen to him.”

Arthur went back over to the window and sat down on the window seat. “What am I going to do?”

Gaius sat down beside him. “He won't force an abdication just as war has started. What you have, Arthur, is a little time. I suggest you use it.”

“What would you do, Gaius?” Arthur asked, turning to the older man.

Gaius didn’t answer immediately but looked out of the window. “I would find a way to make the people listen,” he said, turning back. “If a king has the love of his people, as your father did,” he glanced up at the portrait of Uther, “no council, no government can force him to do anything.”

The doors at the far end of the room opened and the council came back in, their head still bowed. They headed into the chamber and Gaius got up to follow. “They'll give you the verdict now,” he said.

Arthur nodded and stood up. He waited to be called inside and contemplated Gaius's words. He had said he ruled for the people. Perhaps he was going to have to put that faith to the test.

“Sire, they are ready for you,” the announcer said.

Arthur nodded, took a deep breath and went back in to face the verdict.

As he stood in front of the council he realised none were elected. Here was not the voice of the people, but the voice of individuals who had found themselves the power and wealth to be there. Their opinion was not the opinion of the people, and their verdict was not the verdict of the nation Arthur served.

“King Arthur,” Geoffrey said. “It is the opinion of this court that you have two choices. You can either end your affair with Mr Emerson, or you can abdicate in favour of your uncle, Lord Tristan Du Bois.”

Tristan had the audacity to bow.

“You would have me abdicate now? When... we are at... war?” Arthur asked.

“No, but when the war is over we expect you to examine the issue carefully.”

“I will not give up Merlin Emerson,” Arthur said, not making a single mistake with his words.

“Then your only choice is abdication.”

“I find the choice,” Arthur paused, “was never mine.”

He left the council chambers and the council themselves speechless.

*****************************************************************************

The wait felt like forever to Merlin. He had seen a couple of patients that morning and work had allowed him to focus and not to risk turning on the wireless. The news he wanted to hear was not going to be on public channels, not yet anyway.

As soon as he could, Merlin escaped his rooms and headed for Arthur's flat. The staff knew him and were friendly. He was allowed inside and waited for Arthur in the sitting room. Moments ticked by slowly until the door creaked open. Merlin was on his feet in an instant.

“What did they say?”

Arthur’s expression was gloomy. “They want me to abdicate as soon as the war is over.”

Merlin's stomach felt as if it had sunk to his knees. “Oh.”

“Oh? That's it?” Arthur asked, sounding hurt.

“If they want you to abdicate then...”

Arthur interrupted. “Then what? I let my uncle steal the throne?”

“No, of course not,” Merlin said, shaking his head. “I understand. I'll step aside...”

Arthur stepped up to Merlin. “No, you won't.”

“Arthur? What's going on?” Merlin could see a gleam in the Prince's eyes.

Arthur smiled and went to stand by the window. “It's not up to the... court to decide, not up to the... government, it's up to the... people, the actual... people out there. Not the ones with titles or money... but the ones I'm here to serve.”

“You're going to ask the people what you should do?” Merlin asked.

“Yes,” Arthur said, turning to face him. “The government relies on their... goodwill, especially now. They've been telling the... media how much the spirit of the... people means. We'll find out.”

“How?”

“I'm going to... make a... speech” Arthur said. “When the... war is over I'll make a... speech and ask the people.”

Merlin came up to Arthur and hugged him tightly. “I knew you'd make a great king,” he said.

That night Merlin slept with Arthur in the Tintagel flat and didn't leave until long after breakfast.

 

*****************************************************************************

The war with Mercia lasted eight long months. Arthur made a speech every week, sometimes twice a week, to keep up morale and Merlin was with him for each one. Eventually the Albion navy won the battle at sea but then their ground forces faced a bloody battle themselves. There were heavy casualties on both sides but eventually Albion and her empire triumphed.

Now that his relationship with Merlin was 'public' knowledge, at least among the court and government, Arthur no longer hid it from the palace. Most evenings Merlin never made it home. He told Arthur that Gwaine and Lancelot had started to complain they never saw him. Arthur just laughed and held Merlin more tightly.

The war ended on the same day Arthur asked Merlin to marry him.

As soon as the news reached the palace preparations were made for Arthur to give his speech celebrating Albion's victory. As he had many times before, Arthur dressed in his uniform and walked through the palace to the room which had been adapted for all his speech broadcasts. The walk was familiar, comforting, and yet amongst the cheer of the war being at an end there was also a sense of sombre occasion from the palace officials.

“Good luck,” Morgana said, greeting them as they passed her. “To both of you.”

Arthur nodded and Merlin thanked her. It was good to have some support. Lord Tristan was there in the room with the rest of the court He would be listening, and waiting, to make his move once it was over and force the abdication.

Arthur was not going to give him the chance. Not whilst Merlin stood by his side.

It was Geoffrey who met them before they went in to broadcast the speech. He saw the official speech he himself had approved in Arthur's hand.

“This may be your last broadcast as king,” Geoffrey said. “I hope it will be as successful as your others.”

It was a half compliment and Arthur knew it. “Indeed,” he replied.

“We shall draw up documents for the abdication,” Geoffrey said. “Unless you changed your mind.”

Without turning away from Geoffrey Arthur reached down and clasped Merlin’s hand. “No, I haven't.”

Geoffrey coughed, trying to avert his gaze form this obvious public display of affection. “Very well,” he said. “Good luck.”

With Geoffrey bustling his way back to the room where the rest of the court were waiting, Arthur, still holding Merlin's hand, walked into the room that had become almost a second home. As soon as Merlin turned and closed the door Arthur put the official speech onto the floor and took out his own to place on the lectern. He and Merlin had spent many hours putting it together, keeping enough of the wording of the original, at least at the start, so no-one would suspect.

This would be his victory speech but it would also be his plea to the people. Arthur had only one opportunity to get it right. He and Merlin had practised the speech over and over but he couldn't help but be nervous. He just hoped the broadcast would not be cut off by over-zealous officials.

The red light began to blink. Arthur evened out his breathing and looked at Merlin. The red light was on and with Merlin giving him the thumbs up, Arthur began to speak.

“Citizens of Albion,” he began, “I speak to you today...as your king,” a brief pause,“but also as a man,” a natural pause and Arthur kept his eyes on Merlin. He knew the speech practically by heart. “A man who has,” pause, breathe, “in the past few months,” bounce onto the 's' sounds, “shared your sorrow in the conflict with Mercia,” pause for a breath, “and today I share my joy at our,” pause for emphasis, “victory. I thank each,” a breath, “and every one of you,”a brief pause, “for you all made this possible.

“However there is something important,” pause for emphasis, “you should know.”

Now Arthur began to diverge from the scripted speech. He almost wanted to watch the red light, make sure it stayed on, but Merlin covered it with his jacket and just nodded.

“The task of leading you during the difficult time,” pause for what he was about to say, “has been made easier by the help,” a quick pause, “and support,” a breath, “of the man I love.”

Without pausing too much Arthur went into the next section. “For I speak to you today...” a pause and a breath, “as a man in love.” End of a sentence and a natural pause. “A man whose choice of partner,” breath and pause, “has been deemed unsuitable,” pause for slight emphasis, “by my advisers,” a longer pause. Merlin was still indicating the light was on. “Yet I feel it is not their place,” a pause, “to tell me whom I should love,” Arthur breathed and carried on. “They would have me,” quick pause, “discharge my duties as monarch and leader,” a slightly longer pause, “to marry the person I love,” a breath and a pause, “more than anyone.”

Arthur met Merlin's eyes. Merlin was smiling.

“Yet my duty is,” slightly pause, “as it has always been,” another pause for emphasis, “to you,” quick breath, “the people.” Letting that sink in Arthur paused. “So I ask you, the citizens of Albion and our empire,” pause for effect, “to give me your judgement.” A natural pause. “If you wish it of me,” a pause as the next part was hard to say, emotionally rather than practically, “I will discharge my love for duty,” a beat, “though it would hurt.” Merlin had a look of pride on his face. Arthur nodded and continued. “If you w...wished it,” Arthur paused, trying not to let his mistake put him off, “I would discharge my duty for love.”

“I hope, beyond hope,” quick pause, “that you will allow me to carry out both.” Another natural pause. “To allow me to love,” pause for emphasis, “and do my duty to you.” A pause and a breath. “I trust in your judgement.” A pause for emphasis. “ I am but a man,” quick pause, “a man who has grown,” slight pause, “who has been able to carry out his duties,” another quick pause, “thanks to the love I have received.” Arthur paused. “That love has come from another man,” a breath and pause for emphasis. “A man from Avalon,” another pause. “That should not matter,” he took a breath, “I feel the results show the power,” quick pause, “and strength,” another quick pause, “that love has given me.”

Arthur took a moment to take another breath before moving toward the end of his speech.

“My future lies in your hands,” a pause for emphasis. “I thank you for listening,” a quick pause, “and I regret I must,” another quick pause, “reveal this burden in this hour of celebration,” quick pause, “yet I could not, in full conscience,” a pause and a breath, “allow this happy time to be marred by any,” quick breath, “scandal. By telling you now,” quick pause, “how I feel,” another quick pause, “I hope you understand my reasons.”

“I hope you will,” pause for emphasis, “forgive me and I hope,” a breath, “our futures,” quick pause, “remain,” final pause for emphasis, “bright.”

“Thank you for listening,” Arthur finished without pause or hesitation.

The light stayed on for a few moments but Merlin gave Arthur a hug regardless. He didn't speak and Arthur doubted the sound of two men embracing would be picked up even by the most sensitive microphone. He watched as the light blinked off and then allowed himself to let out a sigh.

“How was that?” he asked.

Merlin kissed him playfully. “Fine apart from the 'w' mistake.”

“I had to do that so they w...would know it w...was me,” Arthur said, smiling. He'd actually had to work to make the mistake, something he couldn't have dreamed of doing a year earlier.

“It's up to the people now, isn't it?” Merlin asked.

Arthur nodded. “Will you still love me if they don't want me as king?”

“Arthur, I'd love you if you were lower than a footman.”

At that moment nothing else mattered.

****************************************************************************

When they exited the room they found a crowd had gathered outside. Among them were court officials; including Geoffrey and Tristan. All seemed to have looks of horror upon their faces, mixed with disbelief at what their king had done. All except Gaius who was smiling. He stood behind the broadcast controller and clearly he had had some hand in making sure the broadcast continued.

“You said you believed in the... people, Geoffrey,” Arthur said. “Perhaps... we can wait for their judgement?”

Geoffrey was speechless, his mouth open in surprise but he nodded.

“Come on, Merlin,” Arthur said. Once again he took Merlin's hand and they both smiled triumphantly as they made their way through the court members.

At the door they passed Morgana, who was also smiling. “I think, Arthur, that was the best speech you have ever made,” she said.

Arthur looked at Merlin. “I hope so.”

They left the palace in uproar and retreated to the Tintagel flat. It had become a more personal space for the two of them, a place where Arthur wasn't the king, he could just be Arthur. Of course to Merlin he would always be just Arthur. Merlin told him so much as they lay in bed together.

“It'll be all right, Arthur,” Merlin said, as they held each other.

“I know,” Arthur replied, kissing Merlin. “It always is with you.”

*****************************************************************************

The next morning Merlin found himself waking up early. He jostled poor Arthur out of sleep at an ungodly hour but then neither of them had any desire to go back to sleep. In a few hours the morning newspapers would be out, and Merlin would know if Arthur's gamble, if their gamble, had paid off.

In a few hours they would know if the people still wanted Arthur as their king.

They washed, dressed and breakfasted, but Merlin didn't eat much. In the end he and Arthur both encouraged the other to eat what they could. It was a rather comical situation. Merlin had telephoned his friends to tell them to bring over the morning editions.

“The King of Albion can hardly be seen going out and buying newspapers,” Arthur had said.

By half past nine Merlin was starting to get worried and he tapped the arm of the settee on which he and Arthur were sat.

“You're making me nervous, Merlin,” Arthur joked, although he too looked worried, his mouth set tightly.

Happily, moments later Lancelot and Gwaine came in, their arms full of newspapers.

“What's the news?” Merlin asked, realising how silly that sounded.

Gwaine grunted and dumped the pile of papers on the coffee table in front of Merlin and Arthur. He stretched his back. “The news is we're going to have to start measuring you for your wedding dress,” Gwaine said.

Merlin pulled the top newspaper off the pile and read the headline: 'King's Victory of Love'. Merlin picked up another, 'The Love of A King and His People' it read. Each one was positive, not a single one was negative.

“You should see the people with the placards,” Lancelot said, unloading his pile next to the one Gwaine had dumped.

“Placards?” Merlin asked, trying to read some of the articles.

“Outside the palace,” Gwaine said, collapsing in a chair. “Hundreds of them. All supporting you and King Arthur.”

Merlin felt his jaw drop. “How is this possible?”

At his side Arthur was already picking up several other copies and glancing at the headlines. “I made a really good... speech” he said. “Obviously.”

“Oh, is that all?” Merlin grinned.

Dropping the paper he was holding Arthur leaned over and kissed him. “But I couldn't have done it without... you.”

“Do you think this is enough to stop them forcing you to abdicate?”

Gwaine snorted. “If this isn't enough you should fire the lot of them,” he said.

“I think that,” Arthur said, “is an excellent idea.”

*****************************************************************************

It was early afternoon when they headed back to the palace. Arthur knew they couldn't hide forever. By then the crowds had grown, blocking several of the roads and forcing Percival to take a long route around in order to avoid the car being mobbed. Even so Arthur had a good idea of the support he and Merlin had as he could make out several placards proclaiming 'Let the King Marry for Love' and similar sentiments.

When they reached the palace Arthur left Merlin in Morgana's care whilst he went to see the court. He knew they had convened an emergency meeting and he was anxious as to the outcome.

He reached the council chamber just as the council members were dispersing. Latching onto a friendly face Arthur went to see what news there was. “Gaius?”

Gaius smiled. “Good news,” he said. “The council has overturned their verdict. They see no reason why such a popular king should be forced to abdicate for an unpopular successor.”

“Tristan is unpopular?”

“Oh, he always has been,” Gaius said. “His support was based on fear, but the council fears the goodwill of the people more than they fear Tristan. To be honest, now they have an excuse to withdraw support they weren't keen on giving to begin with.”

“What will happen to him?”

“I think there's probably some diplomatic post we can find for him in a far flung area of the empire. We'll say it's prestigious of course,” Gaius said, winking.

“Thank you, Gaius.”

“Don't thank me,” he said. “Even Geoffrey stood up to him in the end.”

Arthur held out his hand. “I still want to thank you,” he said. “You gave your support before this.”

Taking Arthur's hand Gaius shook it. “Your father would be proud of you.”

Looking up at his father's portrait Arthur could almost picture a smile on the stern face of his predecessor. “Perhaps, Gaius, perhaps.”

When Arthur returned to the main palace Merlin was waiting. He was full of nervous energy as he walked around the room. “Have you heard the crowd outside?” he asked, indicating the noise coming through the open windows. “They've been calling for you for an hour.”

“For us,” Arthur amended. He came close and put an arm around Merlin.

“I love you,” Merlin said, giving Arthur a kiss.

Arthur smiled. He would never tire of the feelings Merlin gave him. It was as if he had taken all of Arthur's fear of speaking and inverted it.

A couple of aides discreetly opened the doors that led onto the balcony. It had been decorated for the occasion, the red banner with the golden Pendragon crest hanging down from it proudly. The cheers of the crowd grew even louder.

“Come on, Merlin,” Arthur said, taking his hand. “Time for your first balcony appearance.”

Merlin smiled through his nerves. “I'm ready,” he said.

Smiling less out of fear and more out of pride, Arthur nodded and led Merlin out onto the balcony to wave at the cheering crowds below.

 

Epilogue

Two weeks after his speech King Arthur Pendragon married Merlin Emerson in a public ceremony broadcast across Albion's Empire. It was the first Royal wedding to be broadcast in this fashion.

King Arthur reigned successfully for decades afterwards. He oversaw a time of great peace and prosperity during which Albion extended her influence and brought hope and change to those that needed it.

Merlin was always by his side. He founded Albion's first Royal Society of Speech Therapists and was later made a member of the Order of the Dragon for his services to health and well being.

King Arthur became the main patron of the Royal Society of Speech Therapists and kept that position for the rest of his reign.

He and Merlin remained happily married for the rest of their lives.

**Author's Note:**

> Character death refers to Uther.


End file.
